It's one thing to know something. It's another thing to hear what you already knew. And it's a real kick in the ass when you hear what you already knew and the total stranger telling you is right.
In my life I can't think of a time where I've been consistently active, consistently ate right, or didn't change jean sizes multiple times in one year, fluctuating from a 4 to a 10 with very little conscientious understanding of what had happened, but blaming the way they were made. I mean, seriously, they sewed the wrong tag size in, that happens, right?
I battled with poor diet, homesickness, then literal sickness, then tragedy, stress, and all of the other emotions a college student battles. My early-mid 20's brought me living on my own, working, and being relatively active, but perhaps not making the best food and drink choices. After all, I was a 20something, by definition that nearly means nothing will happen to you that you can't undo ... oh the lies we tell ourselves. My late 20's brought me heartache and that "damned to them all" mentality. Now in my early 30's I have the adult life of work and trying to balance a social life while my pants were fitting better on hangers than on me.
It took my boyfriend, Will, and I being in a car accident, him tearing his spine and completing physical therapy to begin my journey. Will wanted to continue getting stronger after his injury so he joined a gym and had one of the account managers contact me as well. Will knew how to get me in there ... have a guy with a British accent call. With reluctancy I went to check it out. I liked what I saw, as in, my thoughts that everyone at a gym was in perfect shape was nothing more than a misconception. People of all sizes, shapes … they were working out next to one another and I thought "Well, I could come after work once in a while, or come with Will".
Upon signing up as a new member that allowed an hour meeting with a personal trainer. I went with it, it was free after all. I had hoped to get some tips on things to focus on. What I didn't expect was to be greeted by a woman appearing near my age who sat and talked to me. She listened to me. She had me try to do what appeared to be simple exercises. What I didn't expect was to fail at the simple exercises. I didn't expect of have a rush of emotions. I had been lying to myself.
Kristine, the trainer I met with, sat down and talked to me. She asked my goals. I admitted I knew I was overweight and that I was trying to make changes in my diet and wanted to be more active. Pretty much I think I was like everyone else with vague goals. Kristine outlined things that could help me. She suggested I take part in a TEAM Weight Loss class that met 3 days a week with others trying to lose weight and it mixed cardio and weight training, while the instructor monitored heart rates. She also said I would benefit from working with a trainer. I was embarrassed. I was mad. I cried.
I cried because she was right, I needed something and I didn't know what. And the total stranger she was in front of me knew; and it scared me.
In my life I can't think of a time where I've been consistently active, consistently ate right, or didn't change jean sizes multiple times in one year, fluctuating from a 4 to a 10 with very little conscientious understanding of what had happened, but blaming the way they were made. I mean, seriously, they sewed the wrong tag size in, that happens, right?
I battled with poor diet, homesickness, then literal sickness, then tragedy, stress, and all of the other emotions a college student battles. My early-mid 20's brought me living on my own, working, and being relatively active, but perhaps not making the best food and drink choices. After all, I was a 20something, by definition that nearly means nothing will happen to you that you can't undo ... oh the lies we tell ourselves. My late 20's brought me heartache and that "damned to them all" mentality. Now in my early 30's I have the adult life of work and trying to balance a social life while my pants were fitting better on hangers than on me.
It took my boyfriend, Will, and I being in a car accident, him tearing his spine and completing physical therapy to begin my journey. Will wanted to continue getting stronger after his injury so he joined a gym and had one of the account managers contact me as well. Will knew how to get me in there ... have a guy with a British accent call. With reluctancy I went to check it out. I liked what I saw, as in, my thoughts that everyone at a gym was in perfect shape was nothing more than a misconception. People of all sizes, shapes … they were working out next to one another and I thought "Well, I could come after work once in a while, or come with Will".
Upon signing up as a new member that allowed an hour meeting with a personal trainer. I went with it, it was free after all. I had hoped to get some tips on things to focus on. What I didn't expect was to be greeted by a woman appearing near my age who sat and talked to me. She listened to me. She had me try to do what appeared to be simple exercises. What I didn't expect was to fail at the simple exercises. I didn't expect of have a rush of emotions. I had been lying to myself.
Kristine, the trainer I met with, sat down and talked to me. She asked my goals. I admitted I knew I was overweight and that I was trying to make changes in my diet and wanted to be more active. Pretty much I think I was like everyone else with vague goals. Kristine outlined things that could help me. She suggested I take part in a TEAM Weight Loss class that met 3 days a week with others trying to lose weight and it mixed cardio and weight training, while the instructor monitored heart rates. She also said I would benefit from working with a trainer. I was embarrassed. I was mad. I cried.
I cried because she was right, I needed something and I didn't know what. And the total stranger she was in front of me knew; and it scared me.
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