I have learned how to have A take it easy on me. I engage him in conversation as we work, and it goes much smoother. Today was good. It didn't kill, I learned a TON more about A and I feel great!
It's weird, I feel different, but I don't think I look different. However, several people today made comments about how I looked, which made me feel good. They said they were really beginning to notice a difference.
That is my motivation. Ahhh, if only they could bottle that, there would be no heavy people.
I also find myself rejuvenating when I hear A give me even the tiniest bit of encouragement as I do something. For example, when I complete a set of something and I don't make too many mistakes {which is not that often, as I am a BLONDE BLOB}, he'll say "Great job K!" and smile. If I get him to smile, I feel like I've done something good. I want him to be proud of me, so I try harder.
He also knows my breaking point. Like today, as we were doing those pushups, {which the other day I didn't find all that difficult}, I was near tears during the second set, not even sure I could do another. He knew, obviously seeing as he watches me from every angle {those damn mirrors!} and stopped me before I embarrassed myself.
We did most of our 'normal' routine, tread for 5, leg presses {90lbs}, pushups, that stupid arm, back & chest machine {which I did with only about 5 mistakes}, leg extensions, stability ball - walk down butt & hips, crunches, arms with those tension bands.
Then he let us play "Satan's Roly Poly" a bit differently. Instead of making me do squats to pick it up, he had me balance on the ball, and simply bend, pick it up and throw it above my head over to him as he moved about in front of me. I amend my earlier statement and will call this version, "Slightly Anemic Cute Grandson of Satan's Roly Poly".
But then he had to ruin it. Yep, you guessed it, that damn squeeze ball. I'm having nightmares about that thing. I've explained "Me No Likey". He said, when I hate something that much, it means it's working. I guess he's not going to let me quit with that one. This time, he thru it in while we were on the mat again. YIKES, it's just so hard! If I'm going to wrap my legs around something and squeeze that hard - AS I'M THRUSTING upward - I want more satisfaction at the end then simply a sip of my water. I mean, a girls gotta get something out of this doesn't she?
We ended with the stretching thing. Earlier on, I had told him about my website. I told him how I wrote about him thinking I was a "flexible, blonde whore". He just laughed. I'm not sure what that meant or if it was a good laugh or bad? In any case, he stretched me a bit different and it was fine. I think the idea of him stretching me no longer intimidates me. I mean, this guy sees me sweat 2 gallons in an hour and has seen me at my absolute worse. It can't get any worse - can it? Oh great, I thought of how it could be worse, but I'll save that for another day. It's just my paranoid, schizoid mind working OT.
I think we're getting into a good groove. I find myself beginning to know and anticipate the routine I'll be doing. I think I'm getting the hang of most of the exercises and how many reps I should be doing. I'm even getting the hang of the things I hate.
I know what you're all thinking...who I am and what have I done with the REAL Fizgig?
Hang on to your hats boys and girls, I just might surprise you.
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