Sunday, February 17, 2013

By Jove, I Think I've Found It!

I know I've written several diatribes lately (and yes, 'lately' is a relative term!) about my health and discoveries I've made about food and how to nourish my body better. Now that that's become more second nature for me, I finally decided it was time to do something about my lack of meaningful movement.

I have a desk job. Granted, I'm up and running around a fair amount some days, but other days, I'm stuck behind my computer for hours on end. Along with learning more about food and nutrition and such, I've also been reminded that the human body was not designed to sit on its butt all day. We were designed to be hunters, gatherers and fighters.

Sure, everyone knows that sitting on ones butt too much causes said butt to become larger. But in a lot of cases, mine included, it also contributes to all sorts of other stuff. Not only have I gained weight, but for the past year or more, I've felt my overall anxiety level skyrocket. I notice I get winded a lot easier than I used to. My resting heart rate is at least 10 beats higher than it was a few years ago. Sometimes when I get up in the morning and jump immediately in the shower, it feels like my heart might pound out of my chest.

These are not good feelings! I have long abused my body and forced it into sedentary habits and it's showing me that it's not happy about it. Our bodies are nifty that way - something's wrong, it'll try to tell us. But we have to be willing to listen. For a long time I've been turning a blind eye because it was more rewarding somehow to sit on my butt.

No more!

Oh, who am I fooling. I still spend a good amount of time on my butt. BUT (get it?), I finally came to terms with the fact that I can't seem to climb on the treadmill I have in my house. Nor the exercise bike. For many years, I've thought it would be silly to pay for a gym membership when I have some equipment right in the house. But the truth is, there are so many other things that need to get done, or that I would rather be doing.

So with a knot in my stomach, I signed up for a one-year contract at a local gym. Hubby and I decided we'd get a couples membership and then take turns, alternating days and going after the kid is in bed. I was so nervous that this would be a waste of time and money, and just one more failure in my attempts to get healthier.

We decided that the day we signed up would be 'my' day - I'd go first. With the kid safely tucked into bed, I donned my workout pants (yay Old Navy!) and hopped into the car around 8:00. The gym is only a 5-7 minute drive, which is nice. So by 8:10, I was sitting in my car, outside the gym, trying to convince myself to go in. I hadn't belonged to a gym since high school and the thought of going at all - let alone all by myself - absolutely freaked me out.

I could see the skinny bodies running on the treadmills inside. My brain went into hyperdrive: "Geez, I'm going to look like a walking stereotype in there. Here comes the fat girl who made a new year's resolution (even though this was early February) and she'll be gone in a week." "Wow, what is she doing here, she's a lost cause." "Yuck, no one wants to watch that." "Her poor husband."

Why do our minds play these tricks on us? Here I was, ready to make a commitment to myself, my husband, my son, my family, my LIFE... and my brain was pulling out all the stops to try to get me to give up before I even started. I even found myself dwelling on the fact that I didn't even know how to turn the treadmills on. What if I got in there and everyone laughed at me as I stared at this machine, bewildered?

I texted three different members of my support system looking for something to push me over that edge and compel me to head inside. They are all wonderful. They all said things that really helped me. Hubby offered me an 'out,' saying to just come home, he'd take his turn the next night and then come home and fill me in on how everything worked so that I wouldn't feel so anxious. I told him I wasn't giving up. It was a work night, but I told him I was going to sit there a bit longer and find a way.

I ended up sitting in my car for over 45 minutes fighting with my own brain. Suddenly, I don't know where it came from, but a wave rose up in me and I decided to override the messages my brain was sending me and just DO IT. I marched in there like I owned the place (heart racing, stomach in knots), I walked over to a treadmill and climbed on. I might add at this point that they are remarkably easy to figure out. Ha! I just started walking and decided I'd just go easy on myself the first time, get used to everything, and then I'd have two whole days to build up the courage to do it again.

I rarely made it longer than 15 minutes on my treadmill at home. Like I said, too many distractions. Too many excuses. No real incentive to do it. I turned on the TV monitor on the treadmill at the gym, tuned out everyone around me (I'd forgotten my earbuds, oops! No music!) and just walked. Next thing I knew, I'd gone 15 minutes and was feeling really good. I could feel my stomach starting to un-knot. I started to smell victory (or maybe that was sweat??). I went for 30 minutes my first try. I even gave the elliptical machine a whirl - made it about 5 minutes and decided not to over-do it.

I rocked it.

I went to the gym, by myself, and worked out next to skinny people. And not only did I live to tell the story, I felt like a rockstar.

I've been to the gym every other day since, with the exception of one day that my stomach was really upset. I am slowly but surely increasing my workouts. Every time I go, I'm reassured that no one is watching, no one is judging, and we're all in this together. There really isn't an adversarial relationship between me and the skinny people. Most of them seem quite nice. I wish I had realized this 15 years ago. Ha!

Here we are, two weeks into my gym membership, and I'm already starting to 'cross over.' Last night was my night, but I had a horrifically annoying day. Just one of those days when you want to rip your hair out. All day I tried not to think about having to go workout that night because I didn't want to think up any excuses not to do it. Then, gym time came. I was shocked to discover that rather than dreading it, I was actually looking forward to it. My anxiety was up, but I just knew that time on the exercise bike (or something) would remedy that much better than popping a pill. And I'd rather not take the pills anyway.

I could feel my brain tugging at me, trying to convince me that I shouldn't go.

It pulled out all the stops.

I gave it the finger and got in the car.

An hour later, I felt amazing. And the next day, I'm still in shock. I'm becoming a gym person. If you'd asked me a month ago if that was possible, I would've laughed in your face.

Gym people seem to be healthier and happier than I've been in a while.

I can't wait.

Saturday, February 16, 2013

Jerk Parents

One of my biggest pet peeves is parents who are jerks to their kids. It's hard for me to wrap my head around how people think it's okay to speak to their kids like trash. Actually, this has always bothered me. But now that I have a child, it makes me really angry. It's not unusual for me to really struggle with keeping my mouth shut at least once per grocery shopping trip, for example.

But I just never know if it's my place to say something.

First off, while emotional abuse is just as damaging (or more so) than physical abuse, there's not the same sort of immediate danger with a jerk parent that there is with one who's physically harming their kid. (Those people aren't jerk parents, those people are... well, I can't use that language on my blog.)

Secondly, though I'm generally optimistic on most subjects, I also think that some random stranger in the grocery store making a comment about how that person is treating their kid really isn't going to change their behavior at all. The jerk parent doesn't care what strangers think, and I always wonder if I say something, if that'll just make the parent more angry; if so, that'll undoubtedly be taken out on the child. Lose-lose.

So, I just keep my mouth shut and hope that someday, something gets through to that person. And that the child manages to avoid being permanently damaged.

Last night's trip to the grocery store was certainly no fun in the jerk parent department. In a less-than-30-minute shopping excursion, I saw:
  • A woman with children ages 1-ish, 6-ish, and 13-ish shopping for frozen pizzas. The baby was sitting in the cart screaming his head off. Screeching, really. He wasn't upset, I guess he just thought screeching would be fun. Mom didn't care in the least. Meanwhile, the 13 year old was eyeing a display of Doritos while the 6 year old politely complied with Mom's snotty requests to hurry up and choose a pizza. Mom screamed at all three kids at least three times in the less than two minutes I was near them. Finally the 6 year old says to Mom, sadly, "I can't deciiiiide!!" to which Mom replies, "God, you never like anything, I guess you're just screwed for dinner then, go hungry!" Seriously?! How about helping the kid decide instead of berating him?!
  • A woman appearing to be... what's the diplomatic way to say this... a fan of mind altering substances?... making a huge scene upon coming around the corner of a display of Valentine's candy to find her son, who looked to be about 10. He was on one side of the 2-foot by 2-foot square display, she was on the other. She proceeds to totally flip out on him, crackhead style, and scream, "How many (bleep) times have I (bleep) told you to not (bleep) wander away from me in the (bleep) store?! You're such an idiot!" I gave her my best dirty look as my stomach churned. She promptly led him outside, I assumed to rush to car to be somewhere important. Because, you know, I can't think of any other explanation for her behavior... but no, she rushed outside to her friend, they each lit a cigarette, and she snidely told this child, "go play in traffic if you're gonna wander off." She and her friend laughed. The child hung his head and kicked the ground. My heart broke.
  • And okay, this isn't a jerk parent case, but I'm putting it in this post anyway because sometimes I just don't get people. When I went to check out, there was a woman at the checkstand whose last few items were just being scanned. When they were all bagged, the cashier asked her if she had her store loyalty card with her. She replied that she didn't have one. He politely said, "okay, no problem" and just gave her her total. She quickly said to him, "no, I'm not letting these points go to waste, I want to use my friend's card." The cashier asked her for that person's phone number so he could put it in the computer to get that person the points. Oh, but the woman didn't know what phone number her friend's loyalty card account would be under. Rather than let it go like 95% of rational people would do at the busiest grocery store in town on a Friday night at 5:30pm, what does this woman do? Right, she gets out her cellphone and calls the friend to ask what number the card is under. The person on the phone is obviously confused, so she explains that she doesn't have a card but doesn't want the points to go to waste. Rather than give her the phone number, the person on the phone proceeds to ask her what she's buying. She tells them... one... item... at... a... time. The cashier shoots me an apologetic look. I smile and gesture that it's no big deal. (Because really, what would be the point of getting upset?) Eventually the person on the phone convinces the lady in front of me that they don't know what number it's under. They finally hang up. Whew, finally! ...No. She calls someone else to get THEIR number. Oh boy. They're probably on the phone 3-4 minutes before she finally gets the number and hangs up. The poor cashier obviously wants to deck her. Somehow he maintained his composure. My hat's off to him, and when it was finally my turn, I told him that. But really, her friend probably got a nickel worth of rewards for this purchase. Why booger up the whole line, especially during rush hour, for that?! I have no idea.
So there you have it. My grocery store rants for a Friday night.

I bet you wish you could get the last 5 minutes of your life back.

So did I, after that lady left the cash register.

Ha.