Week 9: One tough week
It's all coming at me at once—and something's gotta give.
I can't say this has been one of my better weeks during this journey. It was weigh-in/photo shoot week, and to say I wasn't really looking forward to it would be an understatement. I know I've been working out and watching my food intake, but rather than becoming easier, it's getting harder and harder to stay focused and committed. I don't want to come off as wah, wah, wah, but my body stays in constant pain now. Instead of feeling more supple and flexible after a continuous routine of exercise, I'm always sore for some reason or another. Workouts haven't become easier, but then, I really didn't expect them to. I know I should be doing more on my own, but to be honest, given my work schedule and other commitments, it's all I can do to get into the gym for my appointments with Tehera. I've got to kick it up a notch, but right now the spirit is willing, but the body is weak.
The photo shoot went okay, but I'll never feel great about getting in front of a camera and being on display—especially when I'm not enthusiastic about the way that I look. But it's encouraging being around my other partners in torture. I can definitely see some changes in them, and they say the same about me. (Are they just being kind? 'Cause I don't see it.) The photo crew also remarks that we all look a bit different. Dare I hope...? I do notice that my clothes are fitting a bit differently. But I am careful not to get ahead of myself in thinking there's been distinctive change. There are my weigh-in and measuring to get through, after all.
After my workout on Thursday, Tehera did a weigh-in and re-measuring. I am mortified and disgusted when it registers that I have not lost one single pound since last weigh-in. And the inches lost are negligible. Of course, the first thing that's assumed is that I'm eating too much, since Tehera knows I've been faithfully coming to the gym. But I know this isn't the case because I've been more than careful about food intake, eating so much less and bringing snacking down to a minimum. I'm working out more than I've done in years and it doesn't seem to make a difference. Needless to say, I leave the gym less than uplifted that day.
When I visit Marissa (the nutritionist) on Friday, we talk about the setback I feel I've had. While Marissa's scale confirms that I haven't lost much weight (more about Marissa's cursed scale at a later date), she is very comforting to me in explaining how weight can become redistributed in the body, and that while weight loss might not be drastically measurable just yet, the changes that I'm making in my lifestyle are. We both also agree that I don't get enough rest, which can wreak havoc on the body. I grasp onto that straw as though it were a life preserver—anything that will keep me encouraged and on the path. I know I'm doing better. I feel better (once I overlook the soreness of my body) and I know I'm going to look better with time. No way am I doing this to quit without results I can live with! But I also realize that something's gotta give. Work and play must become a bit more evenly distributed in my life and going without adequate rest is no longer an option.