As some of you know, approximately one year ago this week I was diagnosed with obesity. Yes, obesity. For those who have seen me in person--including my primary care physician--this "diagnosis" was laughable but nonetheless out there. The erroneous description was given by a so-called doctor at a ridiculous sham of a workplace health care screening. Apparently self-reports and a silly machine fastened to the arm indicate health. I digress.
While the reading was clearly ridiculous--sure, I could have lost 5 or 10 pounds--my cholesterol was on the high end of low (if that makes ANY sense). Specifically my triglycerides were through the roof. Although my doctor scoffed at the obesity conclusion, the cholesterol was something of an issue to her. She chalked it up to stress and genetics because my other risk factors were low, but she wanted me to keep an eye on it. Solutions: diet, exercise and fish pills.
Enter my love/hate relationship with fitness and a super cute trainer named Jared.
Because of the insane health screening after which the president of Adventist Health referred to me (and still does) as "Chubbs," I decided to bite the bullet and join a gym. Because I am results-oriented, I hired a trainer. And not just any trainer, a brand-new, fresh out of college newbie. Turns out it was the BEST decision I could have made. Though fresh off the line and six months out of school, Jared was passionate about his profession and engaged in educational classes and certifications. As a former football player, his approach to training was functional and fierce. I've never loved/hated someone so much!
For six or so months, Jared kicked my ass mercilessly. I ran, I lifted weights, I tossed kettlebells. I jumped rope, I "inchwormed," I did whatever stupid human tricks he asked because they WORKED. Although I do credit meticulous calorie counting and my body bug arm band with helping, Jared's brutal but engaging workouts helped me to shed pounds, build muscle and increase hotness levels, my ultimate goal. (Seriously, if you look at my new client intake sheet, my goal says: To look good naked." I still can't believe he actually wrote that down.)
This entire ramble is to tell you that one year ago, I joined the gym. I hired a trainer (really in January) and my new year's goal was to exercise an average of at least three times per week. Since then, even since moving to Arizona, I've kept my promises. And I want to say that you can, too.
Exercising has really changed my perspective on life. I'm less stressed (even in grad school) and I feel good most of the time. I lost INCHES around my waist and my cholesterol cut in half. (My doctor was GIDDY.) I'm happier and stronger and healthier (and hotter!) than I've ever been. And even though I still hate the gym, I'm committed to this new lifestyle however much people make fun of me for being a gym rat.
I write this ramble because exercise is a simple and easy thing that ANY of us can do. It doesn't take much either... take the stairs, walk around the block, park further away from the store, push a vacuum around, stretch. Just get moving!
In honor of my one-year exerciseaversary, please do something physical and let me know about it. Especially with these high holy holidays of FOOD coming up, staying active will help ward of excess poundage. Between you and me, I'll need to be in the gym triple time. I've got SO many turkey dinners in my future. (Please don't take that as a complaint, seriously! hehe.)
Okay, totally rambling now. Love to you all.
Labels: exercise, The Gym