• Sarita

Pizza Girl, Comin' Through- Day 1 at the Gym 2/14/19

Updated: Mar 15, 2019

I have not owned a scale for 5 years. On purpose, thank you. I was “relatively healthy” 5 years ago, but my love of cheese, wine, pizza & cocktails decided to not play nice with my body anymore.

My best friend has a high-tech scale that I decided I’d check out. I grabbed it, whipped off my socks and stood on the metal sensors. It was at this point that I almost died from shock. Those were seriously NOT the numbers of ME sitting there blinking brightly. There’s no WAY that I was that heavy! No possible way... except, I was. It was totally unacceptable.

That’s when I literally sped around the corner, hoping no one was crossing the street and came to a screeching halt in the parking lot of Lifetime Fitness. I practically catapulted from the car and into the gym. I met with Adam, who listened to me babble about how crazy and out of control I felt. I’m sure he knew I needed help. A LOT of it. That was when he introduced me to Becca. Becca the Beast. Becca the Beautiful. Becca the Brawn. Becca the Brains. Becca the Buster of Fat Cells.

I had an appointment with her the very next day. I was encouraged by her bubbly personality and her rockin’ bod. I thought she was sweet and cute and “this would be awesome and so much fun!” #bringingsexyback, right? 😂🙄

Becca may be 5’2”, and yes, she is cute and bubbly. But it’s a ruse. It’s a disguise. Read on.

When I arrived at the gym, I went to the lady’s locker room and could almost feel the osmosis of healthy descending upon me. There was healthy all around me. These women meant business. Maybe I’d absorb some of how they operated. I grabbed my water bottle and went up the stairs to meet with Becca.

The first thing she did was have me remove my socks and stand on this high-tech scale while holding these bars in my hands. It measured everything. My weight, my body fat percentage, my water density. Becca held a clipboard in her hand and documented everything. I’m honestly amazed the scale didn’t yell out “Pizza! Wine! Pizza Rolls! Cheesy Omelets! Tacos! Prime Rib! Mashed Potatoes! Chips and cheese!” OMG the list could go on and on. I felt a bit ashamed at the way I had abused my body with an overload of indulgence, but Becca never once gave me a look of reproach or judgement. Instead, she talked with me about our goals and told me we were going to get me right where I should be. I was so glad that she had the attitude of moving forward and not looking back at the way I had been consuming too many of too much.

After the Scales of Truth, she put me on the treadmill and got my heart rate going. She chatted with me as I alternated walking with quick bursts of power walking for 8 minutes or so. After that, she brought me into the fitness floor where all the weight machines and free weights were. This is where Sweet, Bubbly, Adorable Becca pretty much pushed me and darn near killed me. I loved it. I absolutely loved and hated it all at once. My body was protesting but Becca didn’t hear it as she talked over the noise in my head and encouraged everything I did. The hour flew by, and by the time I had had enough, it was over. I was sweating. I was a bit shaky. I was thirsty. I was wondering what the hell just happened. She congratulated me on a great first session and scheduled our next one. I was in a bit of daze as I shakily made my way down the stairs. I had the handrail in a death grip all the way down, not caring about germs or anything but the help it was giving me as I went down to the locker rooms.

Thankfully I reached the bottom and made my way into the locker where I changed into my swimsuit to relax in the sauna she wanted me to take at least twice a week. I’m an up north girl, so a sauna sounded heavenly. I didn’t even bother correcting the way she said sauna (she pronounced it saw-na) for fear she would make me do more squats. I just practically stumbled through the door and made my way to the corner, where it’s hottest. I sat there and after about 5 minutes, my body wept. It sweated out toxins, and water, and I willed my bad habits to leave at that time as well.

After my 15 minutes in the sauna, I rinsed off and slid into the hot tub. I sat there staring blankly in front of myself, unaware of anything except the crazy hour I just put myself through. When I was wrinkled and pruny, I got out and shuffled my way to the locker room. I shuffled like an old person or a heavily pregnant woman. My legs were sore, my arms felt weak from exertion, and my mouth wouldn’t work right. I didn’t know if I should let it hang open or grit my jaw closed. I felt like I might look better if I forced it into a tiny smile, but then I probably looked crazed. In the end I just settled for a slack jaw because it took too much effort to try and control my face.

After showering and getting dressed, I made my way out of the locker rooms and with dread saw that I needed to climb stairs to get out of the gym. I started up the first flight of stairs and it was with horror that I soon felt like I wouldn’t make it without a rest on the landing. I again held on to the railing for support, and when I hit the landing, I pretended I was extremely interested in the 60 Day Challenge stories posted there. I read someone’s little bio without even paying attention to who they were or how much they lost in inches or pounds or whatever. I don’t even know what it said. I was too busy welcoming the relief it gave my hamstrings and my thighs.

I plodded on up, almost reaching the top of the stairs where I tripped, and my bag went flying off my shoulder and landed in front of me. A nice woman whose inner thighs have probably never met each other stopped and said, “OMG are you ok???” I smiled and said, “I’m fine, I’m fine, thank you though!” Red faced from embarrassment and effort, I gathered my belongings while thinking, “Please God, help me stand up from this interesting position I’m currently in.” It took every ounce of energy I had left, but I did it.

Finally, I was at the top and I could see the entrance to the gym. I walked around the sea of treadmills, step machines and fit people, but the doors were nowhere to be seen. What the heck, was I trapped here in this Truthful Place? Finally, I asked someone how I could escape, er... I mean, exit. He let me know I had to go back down the stairs, down the hall, and up the stairs by the main desk. WHAT THE F)*(&#%(#*%&)@(??????????? More stairs? I almost cried.

But down I went, my legs screaming at me as I went back down from whence I came, walked down the hall, and once again saw another set of stairs. This time the landing did not hold anything I could pretend to be busy with. It just connected the next flight. Darn you Lifetime! Making me work on my way out!! Up I went again, with the doors to the outside world being my only motivation. I made it up the last flight and went to the side where I set my bag down on a ledge to pretend to organize myself before I went outside. In truth, I needed a minute to rest and catch my breath. Finally, I was in my jacket that doesn’t zip cuz I got too big for it, and I burst through the doors and found myself woken alert with the cold air of winter. It was a welcome shock, anything to feel something other than my sore muscles.

That evening, I ate healthy, very clean and very lean for the first time in a long time. And I savored every bite. I did NOT just put all that work in at the gym only to derail my efforts with more food that would make my gym visits torture. I’m not going to lie, I went to bed a little hungry. This is ok for someone like me, who needs to shrink my stomach back to a little sack that will hold a healthy amount of food and not the amount a King would eat.

I woke up the next morning and although I was very sore, I wasn’t TOO sore. I wasn’t limping, or even really hobbling, but I could feel the results of muscles that hadn’t been used in a long time being worked hard. I felt it with every movement, and I silently cursed the lifestyle I had been leading.

I did go back to the gym the next day and spent 35 minutes on the treadmill. I walked and I sprinted every other minute, and it felt good to loosen everything up. I went back the day after that and did the exercises Becca left me with. I knew I was meeting with her in a few days again, and I wanted to be ready. Here’s what though: You can never really be ready for Becca, SHE’LL be ready for YOU.

Becca- After 5 pregnancies! I got blessed with a Winner!

To be continued....

*I will be blogging about my gym adventures as I’m on this journey. Check back often!

A PIzza Girl Series Post

244 views1 comment