Sherry is petite. 5’3″ and all muscle, she’s in her 50’s and can do T planks, bicep curls with 40 pound weights, and a whole spin class without breaking a sweat. She’s sweet. She feels guilty when the workout she gives me makes me sore. Lately, due to time restraints and vacations and such, we have taken a break from training. Of COURSE we were going to continue to log our foods and come in for training. She wanted an update every Saturday. We promised we would give our food logs and exercise logs and current weights to her.
“Free at Last! Free at Last!…” Haven’t put a foot in the door of the gym for 2 weeks. Haven’t kept track of anything going into my mouth. Haven’t weighed myself in a month. I’m not free. I’m a slave to my fat. My fat, which I believe I called Obe, says YOU ARE HUNGRY. Then he laughs maniacally when I try to find something healthy and end up doing a vacuum cleaner impersonation. I did a concert last night where I played the drums. There was no air moving on the stage, and hot lights. I got that 1 little trickle that runs down your back. My little trickle didn’t stop there though. It gathered its buddies and turned into a small brook that ran all the way down my leg! I was soaked when I got home. I had a snack of cottage cheese and a fresh peach. I have to go to the gym today just to weigh if nothing else. Didn’t walk yesterday–95 degrees and 200% humidity. I’m wondering if I have to start completely over when I get back into training. That is so depressing. At one point, I was down to 187. I quit going and ballooned up to 215. I can’t do that again. That would be stupid. Obe thinks this is amusing. I have resolved I am going to get in shape. Obe says, “Round is a shape…” and then he giggles. I am going to get down and STAY down below 200 pounds. Obe says, “You could have your husband sit on you.” Obe is laughing so hard he has tears in his navel. I hate Obe.
Any psychologist reading this would say I was devolving, and having delusions. I might even have a multiple personality developing. He’d ask, solicitously, “and how are we feeling?” and we’d reply, “We have no idea how you and your personalities feel, but one of mine is confused and angry and another wants to beat the snot out of you. Obe thinks this is hilarious. He asks why I haven’t named the others in his crew.” “Shut up Obe!”