I went to a party. It was a great party welcoming a soldier/friend home from Afghanistan. There were drinks, friends and pictures. Lots of pictures.
I’ve always disliked the camera. My face looks pretty, but I hate the body shots. This occasion was no different. When I saw those pictures I had to ask myself if I was happy with the way I looked. Needless to say, I wasn’t. So, I decided to change it.
I had always complained about my weight but never did anything. I figured if I was going to say something and not do anything it was a pointless and empty argument. I was my biggest critic bit I never took the next step. I knew I never wanted to see another picture where I was tempted to trash the image.
On the following Monday I walked into Gold’s Gym. I got the whole spiel and decided that if I was going to do it, I needed to do it right, and right then. I signed the paperwork and haven’t looked back since.
My body is beaten and I feel like I’ve been run over by a large truck but I’m still pushing ahead. I’ve been faithful to myself and to my trainer and pushed myself past my comfort zone. I don’t even know what a comfort zone is anymore.
So, my first and foremost reason for doing this is to be comfortable with myself. In pictures, when I look in the mirror and when I step on the scale.
I’ll keep aching and sweating as I work towards this. I’ll keep pushing and striving for better than the last time. I’ll keep getting stronger and faster. I’m my only firewall.
One day soon I’ll post pictures. They will be unflattering, but they will be real. I can only promise that the final outcome will be worth the effort and the pain.
That being said I think I’ll go apply heat to my shoulder that’s about to implode. Then ice. Then heat. Rinse and repeat.
Oh, and I’ll probably take an anti-inflammatory med. Or Vicodin. I’m not picky.