New Year, Better Moi – A Guide To Making It

Sweaty and eggplant in color. Me.


“New Year, Better Me” is my New Year’s resolution. Like most, I’m not great at keeping all my resolutions. I tend to fall off the wagon easily since most resolutions tend to, well, suck. My plan includes meditating more, journaling and (drum roll please) reshaping my Mom Bod. The first two items on the list are easy, it’s the third that will give me trouble.

People constantly say that you should love your body no matter how it looks. I am thankful for my body. But love it? Meh. It’s amazing that I gave birth and that my body was capable of that but damn, babies can do a number on a body! So for me, this is about being healthier and losing a few pounds (and allowing me back into all the clothes that I have outgrown).

Thanks to amazing genetics, I’ve been on medication to help control my cholesterol since I was 22 years old. All has been well on the cholesterol front up until recently. At my last physical, my lovely doctor informed me that my numbers are way too high. She suggested that I get more exercise and lose a little weight. As much as I try to eat healthily, I also eat a lot of sugar and carbs. I eat late at night. I don’t get a ton of exercise. I skip meals and wait until I’m overly hungry and then overeat. I like ice cream. A fucking lot.

So, without further ado, here we are.

Day 1:

To say I’m not a gym person is a gross understatement. It’s akin to saying that Cookie Monster “sort of” likes cookies. Being the procrastinator that I am, I decided that mid-January would be the best time to start my “New Year, Better Me” plan. On the walk over to the gym I was easily able to come up with at least 20 reasons why I didn’t feel like going, the top three being:

1. I am going to overheat (more on this later).

2. The underwear I put on is the pair that slips down with every step until it gets to the point where the only thing holding them up is the crotch of my pants.

3. What if I run into the trainer that I dumped a few years ago because he was a drill sergeant?

Alas, I could hear my therapist saying, “Get it out of the way early so you can spend the rest of your day knowing that you already went instead of dreading it!” So, I yanked up my droopy panties and got my workout on. Diving right in at the gym isn’t exactly my style. I like to ease on into my fitness (I also like to ease onto the couch with some ice cream but that is how I have gotten to this point). This means doing cardio and building up some endurance first. Going full bore at the start tends to fail me because it is miserable and painful.

The gym is like a meat locker. Just how I like it. I seem to have this teensy problem of getting so hot that I cannot cool down for hours. This overheating problem gives me migraines. No bueno. Quickly, I discover that my machine doesn’t have Bravo on it. I persevere, this cannot be a setback. I settle on The Weather Channel. At the 10-minute mark, I notice something that feels like the heat of a broiler blowing down on my head. I search the ceiling while trying not to launch myself off the machine and into the window. Not a vent in sight. Pressing on, I wonder if it’s the blood in my head coming to a slow boil and cooking my brain. I peel off my sweatshirt in hopes to diffuse some heat. At the 23-minute mark, I’m huffing and puffing like a freight train and the color of an eggplant. Glancing out at the swimming pool, I imagine myself running into it with all my clothes on. Laughing to myself, I imagine it sounding like a sizzling pan of fajitas at TGIF’s. With one minute to go, I wonder how inappropriate it would be to hike up my shirt and tie it under my sweating boobs. I spare myself the humiliation of a makeshift Daisy Duke top, as my 30 minutes are complete.

Dismounting the machine with rubbery legs, I feel like a champion. I will be back tomorrow.

It is a miracle, or so it feels like to me, that I made it! If I can lose ten pounds by April, that would be amazing. We have a fun girls trip planned and I don’t think that wearing Spanx under my swimsuit will be an option. By putting this out there onto the interwebs, it’s holding me more accountable since you will all be eagerly waiting for my next update to see how I’m doing.  😉

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