Arielle: If you could visualize how you want your body to be, what would it look like? Me: Uh, are you asking me to describe it to you? Arielle: Yeah. Like think of a celebrity. Whose body do you admire? Me: Well, I don’t really watch that much television so it’s hard to say. I mean, I am never going to look like Angelina Jolie. Arielle: None of us are going to look like Angelina Jolie. Me: Okay. Well what about Kate Hudson? She always looks fit. Arielle: You are NEVER going to look like Kate Hudson. Me: I didn’t mean “LOOK LIKE” Kate Hudson. I realize that there are several genetic barriers. But she always looks like she’s glowing. I want to glow. Arielle: Honey, that’s just really good makeup and lighting. Try again. Me: Okay. How about Jennifer Lopez. She’s got a big butt. I’ve got a big butt. Arielle: Okay. Much better. Jennifer Lopez … BUT MORE FIT. Me: More fit? Arielle: GET ON THAT SCALE.
My first appointment with Arielle K (not to be mistaken for Arielle VF) was relatively painless. There were no calipers involved. Instead, they have these body fat calculators that you hold on to and they end up telling you things like 37.5% of your body weight is comprised of fat. The Tanita at home tells me no such thing. Tanita, me love you long time.
Given the fact that I am at 184 – 37.5% body fat means that I am lugging around 69 pounds of fat. Just imagine 69 one pound boxes of butter – that’s how much fat 69 pounds is. You minus out how much fat is normal to have for someone my size (let’s just say 22%) and through the magic of math, the amount that I need to loose is around 47 pounds. Let’s just call in 50 for good measure.
Dropping down to 134 pounds seems like a good goal to have. Last year I had visions of dropping down to my prepregnancy weight of 115 pounds but Arielle assurred me that 134 would be a good intermediary goal to have. The first 50 would be hard work. Another 20 would mean making some serious changes … in other words, going into athlete mode. Right now I am going for “normal healthy individual” … somewhere in between Jennifer Lopez and Kate Hudson.
Or maybe I’ll just strive to be the best version of Giyen.
I was just reading my friend Karen’s blog and my mood was instantly transformed from cranky to happy when I watched this:
It’s a spectacular morning here as I am crossing the channel into Seattle. Everyone I look at is smiling because it’s hard not to looking a snow covered mountain tops tinted with cotton candy pinks and not be smiling. It’s gorgeous and I wish you were here to share it with me.
I have a lot of anxiety about tomorrow. I have a date. No, no, not THAT kind of date. Not yet, at least. I have a date with a personal trainer. Being bit overweight and in total denial about my cardiovascular health, nothing terrifies me more than working out with a personal trainer. They might make me accountable or help me to lose weight or something. Geezzz …
First dates with personal trainers generally mean:
(a) They weigh you with their big mean industrial scale – which, for whatever reason has no personality and tells you things like you weigh 15 lbs more than your scale at home. On the contrary, your Tanita scale at home is forgiving and tells you things like, “Pssst … if you weigh yourself naked after you pee in the morning, those 2 donuts you just ate last night wont count.”
(b) They pinch you with something called a caliper. Just in case you didn’t know, a caliper is an instrument that measures your fat. Basically, they pinch your spare tire and measure how big of a gut you are lugging around. EXCEPT, they do that to your back fat, bat wings, saddle bags, etc. You find yourself feeling like a piece of meat, but no one ever gives you kudos on how nicely that fat is marbled into the flesh.
(c) Push ups & pull ups. Ugh.
(d) Running and talking. Talking and running. “Are you winded at level 3? How about 4? What about at an incline? Huh? What? How does that feel? Do you feel like crying? Well, then that’s too bad. I want you to feel like throwing up. All over the place.”
And then there’s the aftermath. Where you realize that you have muscles in places that you didn’t know existed … because they now HURT. And you are sorry, so very sorry, for spending those consecutive Saturdays curled up in bed watching bad movies on Netflix on demand.
Sigh.
I know that it will probably be fine and that I have nothing to worry about. I know that Ariel will be nice and supportive and not scream at me like Jillian from THAT SHOW or be overly cheerful and perky or my try to be my new best friend.
In the interest of full disclosure, please note that product links redirecting you to other sites such as Amazon, BlueHost, Freshbooks and OpenSky may take you a purchase page of a company where I am a member of an affiliate program. As a result, I will often get a small percentage of the revenue or a commission off of something you have purchased. I am not otherwise paid to link to these sites, nor do I link to any products that I don't actually use or covet in real life. On the rare occasion I accept payment to review a product, it will be duly noted in its associated post.
Have no fear - you are under no obligation to buy anything to get the full enjoyment of this site. We can still be friends even if you never click on an affiliate link. Rest assured, this is all low pressure. I will never show up at your door with tiny vials of Avon perfume or trial jars of pearl cream to entice you. That said, I do truly appreciate when you do purchase something from a linked site - it all helps to keep the lights on and a roof over our heads.
, BlueHost, Freshbooks and OpenSky may take you a purchase page of a company where I am a member of an affiliate program. As a result, I will often get a small percentage of the revenue or a commission off of something you have purchased. I am not otherwise paid to link to these sites, nor do I link to any products that I don't actually use or covet in real life. On the rare occasion I accept payment to review a product, it will be duly noted in its associated post.
