Brenda Battles the Bulge: Firestarter – Week 2Written by Brenda Welch
Well, this is how it all went down.
My first week of healthy living under the guidance of Lacey Lee, owner of Lacey Lee Fitness in downtown Norfolk and personal trainer to the stars (well, I’m not sure about you all, but I’m most definitely a huge, glowing sphere of hot gas before, during and after a workout) was officially underway.
I committed to going to Lacey’s evening boot camp at least three times my first week. I packed my spandex “jiggle immobilizing” workout ensemble along with my neon red kicks into a backpack; stuffed a week’s worth of healthy breakfast and lunch yum yums to dine on while at work into a mammoth insulated tote; and swung both over my shoulder along with my everyday cavernous bag-o-Brenda before beginning an awkward, laborious climb to my office in a manner befitting the Hunchback of Notre Dame.
I was ready. My spine was temporarily out of alignment, but I was ready.
I left work at the appropriate time…well, it would have been appropriate had I not misread Lacey’s boot camp class schedule, causing me to roll in an hour early. I proceeded to park my car in the shade and recline my seat to where the air conditioning blissfully hit me square between my brows, but where my vantage point zeroed in on all the truly health-conscious folks jogging by. I was so moved by their dedication to the liberation of endorphins via cardio activity that I almost rolled down my window to give them a solid thumbs up, but my fear of watching one of my digits spontaneously combust from the heat rendered me immobile. So I chilled, literally.
An hour later, I left the Arctic tundra of my car and melted into Lacey’s gym, I was greeted by her dog, Mea. Mea and I have met a few times, and she’s always been quite polite if not a bit reserved in my company. That day, she wanted nothing to do with me. For a few minutes, I was the only one there to give her love, and I swear she turned her back on me and pranced away. I became convinced that I was harboring some sort of awful disease that sensitive dogs such as Mea can detect with one whiff. This conviction became a harsh reality when I lost my breath five minutes into the class and couldn’t find it again until about four hours later.
But I did it. I made it.
Before you wind up to give me a high five, I’m going to just flat out tell you that that was the only bit of exercise I got that week. I didn’t meet my goal. Between working a bit late one day, miscommunication about who was going to pick up our child from daycare another, and some good ole fashion cramping thrown into the mix compliments of Aunt Flow, my first week was…well…weak. I commenced psychological warfare on myself for failing to stick with my plan, which led me to comfort my ego with crap food. I’ve been on this Merry-Go-Round of false starts and stops propelled by merciless self loathing for more than eight years now. I don’t know how to get off the ride, but I remain hopeful that there is an off switch hidden somewhere within me.
Breaking this cycle is the toughest foe I have ever faced and that is mostly because I get in the way of myself. I am my own worst enemy. I’m the reverse of an old adage–my flesh is willing, but my mind is weak. While Lacey is one of the kindest, most generous and unassuming little sprites you might ever meet, she is anything but weak. I’ve seen her eyes alight with a stubborn spitfire–kind of like the look Drew Barrymore had in the 1984 movie Firestarter, minus the crazy. Lacey uses her fire for good.
I see myself as papery thin moth, aimlessly flying to and fro in the night sky, searching for a steady light to guide me in maintaining a straight flight path toward reaching my goals.
I think I found that light…
Today, Lacey lit up the synapses in my brain with this tip: Place a note on your fridge (maybe inside also), on our cabinet….basically where your food temptations are. Have it say something like “will this get me closer to achieving my goals?”