Friday, June 13, 2014

On Pudginess and Perseverance

The Pudgy Parson has been quiet lately.  Not due to busyness.  Not due to lack of desire.  But something much worse, lack of noticeable progress.  Which is making me the perfectly pouty Pudgy Parson.

Two months ago, I went to He-who-trains and explained that I was three months away from a beach trip and that I expected to be in a bikini.  He amped up my workout routine.  He changed my meal plan.  He gave me what I wanted, but more importantly, what I needed to achieve my goal.  Only my body and my fat have become really good friends after such a long time together, and they are having a really tough time parting ways.  There's been some two year old worthy temper tantrum throwing on the part of my body, which is ardently refusing to come on board with the bikini or bust plan. 

I've been busting it.  I've been eating well.  And I weigh exactly what I did two months ago.  My body is the same size and shape it was two months ago.  I'm seem to be throwing myself a pity party. There's a mean, but right convincing, voice in my head that says "It doesn't matter what you eat, so you might as well have fun."  I've shut her up so far, but for the first time in months, it's a struggle.  I'm just plain discouraged.  I'm angry that I am nowhere near where I thought I'd be, and that once again, I'm gonna want to hide my body at the beach. (But there is a cousin and a workout partner and others who keep telling me to wear the bikini proudly.  We'll see.) I wasn't expecting perfection, but I was expecting progress. 

I whined to He-who-trains about my flagging motivation.  I was almost hoping for a lecture because maybe that would wake me up.  And when this has happened before,  I've gotten an ear full about how he can't make me want this and how that has to come from me. His certification says "Master Trainer", but it doesn't mention that he is also a master lecturer.   But this time was different.  We both know how badly I want this, and how hard I'm willing to work to get there.  He came up with a new attack plan to see if my body will respond better, and he did gently remind me that I'll never be a body builder if I can't stay on myself even in the plateaus.  (As a side note, I give He-who-trains a lot of grief, both in person and on this blog because he is always challenging me and making me challenge myself.  But the truth is that I really have no idea how people do this without a He-who-trains. When something isn't working, I'm lucky enough to have someone who can figure out the problem and keep changing things until a solution is found.  If you've ever wondered, yeah, it's worth it. Having a trainer is the best investment I could make in myself.) But he said something that I really needed to hear: Remember how far you've come and focus on that right now.

I was digging around on my computer, and I found some pictures of me at my heaviest that I didn't remember existed.  (As a rule, I pretty much avoided the camera.) So beside the picture of fitness supermodel Jamie Eason that is on my refrigerator, I'm putting these:




Apparently, losing 80lbs makes a difference.  I'm not where I want to be.  But I am definitely not where I was.