Losing 20 pounds – post 10

I haven’t written in a while because I’m sad to report… I haven’t lost weight yet. I’m maintaining, which is nice because this past year my body weight has liked to go up on a weekly basis, but it’s beyond frustrating that I’m not losing.

I’ve drank less wine, I’ve gone to the gym, I’ve eaten more protein and less carbs! What does a girl have to do to shed some weight?!

But no fear, dear supportive readers. Nothing is going to stop me. I am determined, more than ever, to shed these damn 20 pounds from my body.

It’s on, body, it’s on.

Stay tuned….

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Losing 20 pounds – post 9

It’s been two weeks since I became a real gym-goer (meaning i’m using the membership I bought, hehe!)

My goal is 3-4 times a week and I think it’s doable. I have been trying not to look at the scale because I don’t want to become obsessed with that part right out of the gate. First, along with my amazing trainer, I want to learn the ropes and remain encouraged as I do so.

Though I don’t want to know my weight just yet so I can’t share it, I would, however, love to share a few of my observations from the first two weeks of going to the gym:

My posture is the best it’s ever been. Not sure how it happened exactly, but I find myself sitting up much straighter!

Yes, people grunt there, but it’s for a good reason. I was always a bit scared and skeptical of those muscle men/women who grunted as they picked up so much weight that I could feel pain just looking at them. But now that I’ve started weight training, I get it. It’s about breathing. And it’s necessary. And by my third set of ten on most machines, I’m breathing loudly right along with them. (Though I have yet to grunt!)

A lock, water bottle and towel will be your three best friends at the gym. Self explanatory. I use all three every time I go and if I didn’t have one, it would suck.

Soreness does not last. As my husband/trainer told me, “We have to tear the muscle to rebuild it.” Once you do, the soreness goes away and the strength takes over. And that is a pretty damn good feeling.

Mirrors help with form. I admit. I always thought the mirror-lined walls of gyms were for vanity purposes but I now realize, that while some may use them for that, their main purpose is for you to see your form and make sure it’s correct.

Have any gym observations you’d like to share? Please do! And as always, thank you for joining me on this weight loss/fitness journey of mine!

Relationships 401

It’s interesting. Today I was watching an episode of Jerry Seinfeld’s show “Comedians in cars getting coffee” and it was the one where he had Julie Louis Dryfus on.

The camaraderie between her and Jerry was obvious and you could see he adored traits in her that were enviable, even after all these years. And she saw him, faults and all, as her comments attested.

But at the core – they really got each other.

That’s flippin’ important in any relationship, no? Friendship… Romantic…whatever…

But it also begs the questions – do you have to almost envy the person you’re with in order to want to be with them? And if you strive for the best, should that only be within yourself or does that include your partner too?

What say you?

Losing 20 pounds – post 8

Okay. It was a slow start getting there but I finally made it to the gym.

I’ve been twice now (Sunday and today, Tuesday) and I AM SORE.

SORE. SORE. SORE.

I worked muscles I didn’t know I had. I learned what a tricep was (totally thought it was somewhere else on my body, haha!) and I breathed deeply, going for it.

Now, I’m a lucky girl. My trainer is my husband (he did it professionally many years ago) and he is very good to me. He keeps me on my toes but knows when to back off. Gentle with his gym-virgin wife yet firm. And even though he tries to be serious, his loving nature shines through as he teaches me.

Everything you want in a trainer, right? ;)

But it comes down to me. And I’m determined. Four times a week is the goal, even though I now fully understand what is meant by “no pain, no gain.”

The gym and weight training is no joke. It’s definitely NOT the easy way, which I realize I had been trying to take since I started this journey, eight posts ago. But no, life took that idea and had a good laugh with it.

I haven’t weighed myself on purpose this week. I don’t want to do it daily, but rather weekly, and track it over time to see if I am losing weight.

So, please stay tuned and see along with me if I make it below 141 after my very first week EVER at the gym…

 

 

Losing 20 pounds – post 7

I did it.

I joined a gym.

This is a first for me and I’m not going to lie. I feel… nervous and apprehensive. I always pictured gyms as large sweaty rooms full of people trying to show each other up. I’m hoping I’m wrong but I guess I won’t know till I’m there.

Fortunately, my husband is a trainer-quality gym-goer so I am in very good hands for my first session, which will likely be tomorrow. If it wasn’t for him,  I’d be struggling far greater. I truly have only been inside a gym maybe three times my whole forty-year life.

I want to slap the 28 year-old me who took for granted a super fast metabolism. I should have been nurturing it and appreciating it.

But yes, hindsight is twenty/twenty.

Now, pictures of myself are becoming harder to look at. Quite simply, I am not happy with the way I look.

I should mention this is extremely personal. It is NOT a statement on how others should feel about themselves at any given weight. It’s about feeling good about oneself and if there is something you want to change to make that greater, then you should, as long as it’s done in a positive way.

For me, this means losing twenty pounds. That’s my truth and what I’ve determined will make me feel better about my body and my health. If I want to be around for a lot longer, I have to take steps to help ensure that, no?

And I’ve tried the past several months and appreciate all of you who have come along with me, but now, still weighing in at 141, I’m pulling out the big guns.

I’m a certified first-time gym member.

Stay tuned…

 

Being Alone

As most who know me know, I love being alone.

I can spend days, if not weeks, without human contact and not even bat an eye. I’m not saying this as some badge of honor or anything. Merely as a fact about me. And one pertinent to what I’m about to tell you…

Recently, my husband was heading to the East Coast to visit his mother for some one-on-one time. I was planning to stay home and enjoy my alone time.

Well… things didn’t go exactly as planned.

It just so happened that my grandfather passed away and his funeral was scheduled during the eight days my husband was also away, so needless to say, my alone time at home was interrupted with a four-day-trip to New York.

I had a day alone before flying to the east coast and then I had three days alone after returning.

I know this sounds ridiculous but I was savoring each one of them.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I love and adore my husband and we are seriously perfect for each other BUT we BOTH work from home and though our apartment is nice and large, our kitchen is the size of a bathroom (not kidding!) so when we’re both in there, moving is difficult. For someone like myself who loves (no, needs) alone time, this is all very difficult. I also work nights part-time so my sleep schedule is all over the place.

Anywho…

My grandfather’s funeral was beautiful and we celebrated him with love. I have no regrets and loved him very much.

When I returned home, I was keenly aware of my alone time countdown. I reverted back to the Christina who lived alone for seven years. I pee’d with the door open, I walked around with zit cream on, I worked wherever and whenever I wanted. I slept soundly as there was no one there who could wake me up. I cooked what I liked and didn’t care if the house smelled of shrimp (my husband despises it!) All in all, I had a good time. Not gonna lie.

I was so enthralled with this aloneness though, that I shared a little too much about it with my loving partner, who needless to say did not care too much to hear about how happy I was living it up in Aloneville.

Our reunion wasn’t as heartwarming as it should have been and I take the blame. Rather than express how much I was enjoying being alone, perhaps I should have told my husband how much I missed him.

But the funny part of this whole story, the reason I am writing this long tale, is that I didn’t realize I missed him until after he came home.

I know. Crazy. But that’s how it went.

First, I started to see how nice it was to have him by my side at night. Falling asleep on him is one of my favorite places in the world to be. And sleeping alone, though it was great to sleep diagonally in silence with all the covers, didn’t seem as significant as before. And when something good happened, like when a piece of mine got published, sharing it with him made it so much more meaningful than smiling to no one in the room.

I also realized coming home from work to an empty place isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. Sure, the freedom to do whatever you want is tempting, but much less satisfying that coming home to a smiling partner, who is waiting to eat dinner with you and genuinely tells you they missed you all day.

But what really got me thinking was a few days after my husband returned, I shared with him how much I loved him and that I try to learn about us and grow every day and how I want to show him this more… and you know what, it turned around his entire day, taking it from a shitty one to not so bad.

Love is powerful.

It teaches us daily if we’re open to it. But with it, comes responsibility.

Thank you, Don. For putting up with my demand for alone time but you know what, I might not need it as much as I thought…

 

My Grandpa’s Funeral

For those who don’t know, I sometimes write in a stream of conscious way. For this post, I’ll be doing so…

Il funerale di mio nonno

after the news, tears came. then came the plans. flights were booked. messages were sent. i just wanted to get there. flying was a nightmare but worth it. sleep would be had whenever possible. met parents at the buffalo airport at 6 am est after leaving LA the day before at 9 am pst. hugs with them, especially my mother. my beautiful mother.

la mia bella nonna. my beautiful grandmother. more tears came before a little sleep. then the wake. four hours of visitors. family seen, some I’ve seen recently and others I hadn’t. it was beautiful. and touching. and emotional. and a testament to my grandfather.

being surrounded by his family was his favorite thing in the world. and that was exactly how we celebrated him.

my aunts and uncles and cousins planned a wonderful memorial to him. it was absolutely lovely. hearing about his last moments made me understand what true love looked like. till the moment my grandfather passed, he thought about his wife. and the fact he was surrounded by family in those last (surprisingly) lucid hours makes me feel good. i know he wouldn’t want it any other way.

he was 97. lived an extraordinary and beautiful life (from fighting for the Italians and stationed in Africa to becoming a prisoner of war in the US during WWII to immigrating his family to America in the 1950s) and he gave me my mother. for that I will be forever thankful.

seven months ago I took my husband to meet him. i’m so grateful I had those moments with him. when he wasn’t giving me advice on having children (he did not like that we chose not too, haha!) he was telling his grandson-in-law stories about Sicily and our family’s early years in America. and he was still making my grandmother blush with stories about stealing kisses when she was in her teens.

the funeral and reception gave family and friends a time to honor him one last time before laying his body to rest.

and that’s when I looked around, saw all of my family’s faces in the same room and was filled with a warmth that I believe was love.

family.

love.

it’s what it’s truly all about, no?

thank you Nonno. I love you. and may you rest in peace and meet your love again wherever you are…