My pants aren't any looser, but my skin is...does that count?

Hello my friends!

So my twelve week body challenge at Gold's gym is over as of Saturday.  My final numbers aren't as impressive as I'd quite hoped back in January when Dee and I swore we were going to win the big honkin' cash prize.  (Okay, Dee might just win...she's lost so much weight she looks like a completely different person, and I'm sooooooo proud of her...and jealous.  But mostly proud...and a little jealous.  Okay, I'm way jealous because she's been really sucessful, but I'm mostly proud.  Really.  I am.  Honest.)

I also have to give a shout out the to the trainers at Gold's.  There's been a little misunderstanding about how I feel about the trainers and about Gold's in general.  So I'll clear it all up by saying this:  The support I get from the folks that work at Gold's could NOT BE BETTER.  I have my emotional ups and downs, like everyone, but KRAM has been pretty awesome at not taking my general whiny crap.  If I actually paid for acutal sessions, he'd probably beat me over the head with something, but I'm sure I would deserve it.  And I have to say, since I'm one of those folks who only consults a personal trainer when the session is free, I am so pleased at the amount of attention I've been given by the trainers.  I adore KRAM  (can't wait 'til his wife has her baby so that he understands what I'm talking about when I say my time is not my own.)  and Dixie and Kira  (Not their real names of course) have been literally cheerleaders through this process.  While I haven't met all the trainers at the Gold's in Waukesha, I get the feeling, just in my contact with these three, that N.B. M., the gent who manages the place, has a talent for finding excellent trainers.

Too much?

Well every word is true.  If it weren't, this blog would not be nearly as much fun to read.  Then it would just be fiction and hey, you can get your fiction anyplace.  Here you get my real life in blazing color.  Or whatever.

Back to my weight loss.

So I'm not super thin yet, still, I'm happy that things are moving in the positive direction.  I lost 6 pounds, most of them in the last 10 days, which brings my total weight loss since 11-1-10 to the big 20 pounds.  I've also managed to firm up my fat enough that I'm a total of 14 inches smaller.

Where those 14 inches went, I'm not sure.  The biggest thing, people tell me, is that I should notice my clothes fitting better.  I'll be honest.  I don't.  But that's not anyone's fault really.  Maybe I'm just not that observant.  Or maybe Hubby's been switching out my normal clothes for skinnier versions so that I keep thinking I'm fat and I stop eating the ice cream during "Biggest Loser" and then he can have some. 

What I have noticed, is that my skin is looser.  This is something women of a certain age start to fear when talking about weight loss.  So you lose the weight, but your skin is no longer as springy as it used to be and then you're stuck with a lot of skin that just hangs on you like a very weird, sort of ugly sweatshirt. 

I actually had a conversation the other day with someone who decided it was just better to be fat.  Oh wait...I think I may have said that.  Let's NOT share that with anyone at Gold's...okay?

You know what I'm talking about.  You get to a certain age where you realize that if you truly do lose that pesky 90 pounds you've spent the last 10 years building up, your skin might not read the memo. Then what?  Then you're one of those people who goes on Discovery Health  (Oh, wait, there isn't a Discovery Health Channel anymore because Oprah took it over. Thanks Oprah.  Thanks a ton.)  or The Learning Channel and get one of those full body lifts where they just carve chunks of loose skin off of you like some weird Captain Ahab/Moby Dick nightmare.  And then they make a fake belly button for you because the skin you're using as belly skin now is actually from you ankles, and I haven't met a person yet who has belly buttons on their ankles.

I don't love my belly button, but it is one of the few body parts I'm not that interested in replacing.

Oh yeah...you think you have a hard time finding jeans that fit?  How about jeans with the "excess skin" pocket?

So I noticed the other day, as I was drying my hands at Gold's, that the skin on my hands and arms is definitely looser than it was 12 weeks ago.  See, Gold's doesn't believe in paper towel.  A lot of public bathrooms have gone through the air drier/paper towel/nasty cloth ring thing that never gets changed argument when it comes to folks drying their hands after using the facilities.  I know there's a section of the population that might go for optino 4, no hand washing at all, which is why it's a good thing the country isn't run by 8 year old boys. 

At Gold's they've gone with the hand drier.  But, because it's Gold's, we're not dealing with any sissy half power electric drier that will blow for ten seconds and you wind up drying your hands on your pants anyway.  Oh no, Gold's has a hand drier that will, under the right circumstances, send a light weight person into orbit.

Since I am not a light weight person yet, I have to be satisfied with the fact that the powerful hand drier at Gold's ripples my skin sort of like those beach pictures where the sand is the shade of a lovely tan and has measured ripples where the tide has left its mark.  Yes, that's what I think of when I'm drying my hands at Gold's.

AT first I thought it was funny...now I'm just scared.  How long until I'm able to star as the skin dress in "Silence of the Lambs II:  How to Make a Dress of Your Own Skin?"  Honestly, if my arm skin, and my hand skin, both of which are still pretty firm becuase I do pay attention from time to time and put lotion on them, are rippling like that, what's going to happen when my weight loss reaches the less elastic skin of, say, my butt?

I haven't had the courage to hoist my hamhocks up under the hand drier to see if I get the same ripple effect on my fanny as I do on my hands. I haven't done this mostly because just picturing how awkward that would be makes me laugh out loud.    You know, the type of laughing you do when someone you already don't like too much falls down into a pile of snow?  There's no injury, so a deep down belly laugh is okay.

Well, I'm on this planet to make people laugh...I'm just not sure I'm ready to be that funny yet!

Is this really something we need to spend time contemplating?

Good morning my friends!

I'm in the midst of a really busy week in my real life, so I do apologize for not being around much.  I promise you, the quality of this blog will increase after this next weekend!

Last night I was watching "The Biggest Loser."  I love that show.  It's inspirational to see really heavy people work hard and lose weight while picking up eating and cooking tips along the way.  There's a bit of game play, especially this season, but for the most part it's about the steps a larger person must take to lose weight and get healthy.  I love Allison, the hostess, who has been on TV her entire life in the soap "Days of our Lives."  She went through a weight loss nightmare of her own when she was younger.  It was very public, and very harsh, so I know every time she opens her mouth, she's been in almost the same place the contestants have been.  Plus, she gets to be the DEVIL on the show.  She's sort of the ring master when it comes to challenges and weigh ins.  Last night she said, "This isn't a prison, you get to leave whenever you want to."


Yep, I love the show.  I especially enjoy watching the show while snacking, generally on something buttery or chocolate filled.

Last night the contestants were separated into four teams from their previous two. This is important I guess because not everyone got the trainer they wanted or the teammate they wanted or the color t-shirt they wanted.  (Personally, I would look like DEATH if I had to wear the green T-shirts.  It's a really strong shade of green.)  They have two new trainers this season, Kara and...I think he's called Brett.  (Frankly, I just call him "the pretty trainer.")

For those of you not familiar with the show, the two trainers for the last however many seasons have been Bob and Jillian.  Jillian is a tough drill sergeant sort of person, all business, tough as nails.  She could possibly kill someone if given the chance.  Bob is a bit gentler, using a bit more humor and a lighter touch.  Brett and Kara are far more...existential.

Which is a disturbing direction the show has been taking of late.  Suddenly, the trainers are also psychologists.  I realize that being fat is far more complicated than just a person eating a lot and not moving.  I have a ton of reasons why I gained weight and I use all of them as excuses when I'm trolling for a snack at 10 PM.

But last night, the analysis of the contestants made me laugh so hard I almost blew Vernor's through my nose.  (And if you are familiar with Vernor's ginger ale, you know that blowing it through your nose is very painful.)

Brett, the pretty trainer, had his three team mates go to a quiet place by themselves, and stare out at the mountains in the distance and contemplate on what brought them there.

Basically, Brett, the pretty trainer, had given them the equivalent of a TIME OUT.  (Go to your space and be quiet for a period of time that is appropriate for someone your age.)

The visual of this unintentionally hilarious.

First of all, they weren't by themselves.  The team mates stood about four feet from each other, looking away from each other.  Second, how much contemplation did it take to realize you are on The Biggest Loser because you are FAT?  They don't put skinny people who eat healthy balanced diets on the show.  They put big fat gigantors who subsist on a diet of pizza and chips on the show.  How did you get to this place?  You ate your body weight in crap and got fat!

Which brings me to the point of today's blog.  I'm a heavy person, so I'm pretty sure I can say this.  If you are fat, there might be underlying reasons why you eat, but here's the real deal:

YOU ARE FAT BECAUSE YOU EAT TOO MUCH AND YOU DON'T PRY YOUR BUTT OFF THE COUCH.

If I were a trainer on "the Biggest Loser,"  I would spend a lot less time contemplating and a lot more time working out.    As a fat person I will be really honest with you.  It's not a secret why I'm heavy.  I know, you know it, KRAM at Gold's Gym not only knows it, but he gives me all manner of grief about it.  I'm heavy, like most people are heavy, because we shove endless waves of food down our pie holes and because exercise hurts.  I'm currently losing weight because I'm shoving smaller waves of food down my pie hole and exercise doesn't hurt quite as much as it did a month ago.

The Good: Bob, The Bad, Allison, who plays the DEVIL on Biggest Loser just to mess with the contestants, and the ONE WHO WOULD FLOG YOU WITH YOUR OWN ARM if she were allowed, Jillian

There are the strangest moments in "The Biggest Loser"   It's these odd, scripted moments between a trainer, usually Jillian, which is why it feels so odd because having her be quiet and, you know, NICE, is weird, and a contestant. This is when the contestant opens up about why they are fat.  Then Jillian gives advice like, "You are worthy.  You have to feel that."   or "You can't get well until you get real about yourself." 

I haven't brought this up much with the trainers at Gold's, mostly because they are generally working with people who are serious enough about fitness to pay them for their services.  Me, I just do the drive by training, like, "Hey, how ya doin'?  I'm great....should I be running at a 5 mph speed or faster?  OK, thanks!"   "Hey, I've been on the elliptical for 6 minutes and I can't feel my elbows anymore...should I take a break maybe?"  

Anyway, I haven't brought it up much, but I will say with my few meetings with KRAM, I'm thinking that real life trainers aren't all that interested in the issues you bring to the table.  I'm guessing that the following points would elicit the following answers from pretty much any trainer at Gold's.

1) Self esteem?  Yeah, you know what's going to give you huge self esteem?  GET YOUR BUTT MOVING!

2)  Issues?  You know when you're not focused on your issues?  WHEN YOUR BUTT IS MOVING SO FAST AND SO HARD THAT YOU CAN'T THINK OF ANYTHING BUT THE PAIN IN YOUR BUTT.

3)  Don't feel worthy of some blessing you've received?  GET YOUR BUTT IN GEAR AND DO SOMETHING THAT WILL MAKE YOU FEEL WORTHY!

4)  Why can't you control your late night eating?  BECAUSE YOU AREN'T MOVING YOUR BUTT ENOUGH DURING THE DAY!

At least, that's what I would say, if I were a trainer...you know, on the Biggest Loser or something.

By the way, as for my own weight loss journey  (and are we tired of THAT phrase now?)  I've reached a special number.  I lost five pounds after giving up the anti inflammatory meds for my hands.  They weren't doing much for me except making me retain a lot of water.  I'm down five pounds, I'm two pounds away from a 20 pounds weight loss mark since November 1, and my BMI went down 8 points in the last two weeks.  My body fat percentage is still gross, but it's UNDER 45% for the first time in a long time.  (And it dropped something like 5 points in the last two weeks.)  I've managed to run almost three minutes in a row, missing it by only  a few seconds.  I know I kid, but if it weren't for Gold's, and the constant nagging...I mean, encouragement, of the people there, I would not have this progress.  Also, I would not have this blog, because what's more funny than reading about my less than graceful attempts at physical fitness.  (Which reminds me...I keep running into a very beautiful, young, fit lady from our church at Gold's.  I have to share that with you in a later post.)

I'm not where I want to be, but I'm in better shape than where I was!

The worst thing a child can do is lie...the worst thing a fat person can do is lie to a personal trainer.

Good morning!

I've always told my kids that the worst thing a child can do is lie, because it hurts the relationship they have with the person they lie to.  Of course, that dedication to honesty doesn't always spill over into adults' relationships.  Face it, we lie to each other every day.  And on that happy note, I give you this:

Yesterday I enjoyed my personal training session that was included in my fee for joining Gold's 12 Week Body Challenge.  I got to meet with KRAM, the same personal trainer who got me restarted on my membership.  I discovered two things about personal trainers.

1)  They believe you're telling them the truth when you tell them what you weigh.

2)  The worst thing in the world is to lie about your weight to your personal trainer.

And I learned something about myself:

1)  I lie about my weight, even when I think I'm telling the truth.

Here's how this got started.  Back in August I met with KRAM and we did the whole, "Where do you want to be, what are your goals" bit that personal trainers are supposed to do.  He asked me my weight.  I gave him a number.  It wasn't completely a lie because at some point in my life I weighed that, obviously, because I had to pass that number to reach the number I was currently at.

And it never occurred to me that he would ever ask me the question again, since I haven't sold enough copies of Dream in Color to pay for actual personal training sessions.

So yesterday we sat down and I was very proud of the fact that I'd lost 16 pounds.  (Of course, I'd gained a couple back over last week, so I was actually at a -14 from my starting weight since, um, October.)  Then he showed me my stats from August...and I deflated.  According to HIS stats I'd only lost two pounds. 

So instead of just letting it go, I informed him that I'd lied about my real weight, that I'd lost as much as 16 pounds, and that I had done it pretty much on my own, thank you, and I'd done it since I got serious back in October.

Kram was not impressed.  Apparently lying to a personal trainer is pretty bad.  He gave me a stern look.  (I think it was a stern look. He's such a good guy, it's hard to believe he'd ever get really angry.  Of course, he isn't a parent...yet.  His wife is expecting, and I'm sure once that blessing enters his life, he'll learn the joys of explosive, uncontrollable shouting brought on by sleep deprivation and never having the answer to every why question that little bundle will ask.  But I digress.)  Anyway, he whipped open my chart.  (He KEPT A CHART ON ME?)  And said, "are you still 5'5"?

Well, sure.  I'm mean, I'm not going to lie about my HEIGHT!  How would that benefit me?

Oh wait, the whole height, weight ratio.  Yeah, I've probably lied about my height before.  But seriously, I'm not that tall.  It's not like I can tell him I'm 5'10" and get away with it.  (Of course, the Wii is different...)

I'm OUT OF CONTROL with this lying!

Once we had all my stats back in line, which involved a weigh in, awesome.  He got me going on some cardio.

Now, we all know that I like to sit down on the recumbent elliptical in Cardio Cinema and pedal for about half an hour. 

Kram had other ideas.

First of all, it was the bright lights of the big room for me.  Second, there's NO SITTING in personal training!  Third,

YOU WILL GET ON THE STAIR MACHINE!

I've walked past that stair machine a bunch of times...and I've always thought it would look far better in a closet someplace because that puppy is scary looking, given my childhood experience with escalators.  (Another story for another day my friends.)

But KRAM was having none of my whining and on the stairs I went.  I'm proud to say I didn't fall off.  And I didn't beg for mercy.  At least not out loud.

After a solid work out, he sat me down and informed me how many calories I get to have each day, how much fat, how many carbs.  To quote one of my favorite movies, "Gladiator"

This is a pleasant fiction, is it not?



(On a side note, I'm starting to think "Gladiator" quotes are going to pop up more as I go through this body challenge.  Who knew there were so many training focused quotes from that movie?)

I told you that stair machine would kill!  No one is strong enough to beat the stair machine!

But seriously,  I got a lot out of that session, including a snack!  KRAM shared a mini rice cake with me.  Now how can I be angry at someone who shares snack food with me?  Okay, so I was on the elliptical in Cardio cinema  (mostly because he guilted me into it, I really wanted to go home and just sit in a hot shower while eating a bucket of chicken.)  killing a few minutes before I had to pick up Peaches.  And okay, so I didn't have a water bottle handy.  And yes, I did get a bit of rice cake caught in my throat.  But still, if someone shares food with me, I'm sort of like a hound dog.  Share food, and I'll follow you for life.  Even a mini rice cake!

BUT, Gold's giveth and Gold's taketh away.  I had such a positive experience last night and a good work out.  I got to work this morning, feeling all good about myself.  And there was an email from Gold's.  I opened it, and what do you know?  Apparently Gold's thinks I'm six months younger than I am!  They must, because it had my stats from my measurements on Saturday and everything else, including a waist measurement that still makes me laugh, was right.  So I'm six months younger!  And, in spite of what the email claimed, there was no picture!  SCORE!

And while I was still feeling good about myself...a second email from Gold's.  Oh I'm still 6 months younger according to them...but the before picture is ALL ME.

The thing about having a picture taken is, you can think you know what you look like, but face it, you don't know what you look like until you actually see yourself.  I'm thinking I'll just send the picture in to "Biggest Loser" and throw myself on the mercy of Bob and Jillian.

On a serious note, my friends, if you have the means, I truly suggest you try personal training.  I look at Dee all the time and her results are undeniable!  (She's horrified by her before picture as well, but at least she doesn't look like someone who needs to be cut out of their house and taken to Brookhaven clinic for the super obese!)  If you have access to a gym, join it. If you can meet with a trainer, do it.  And if you live in the Waukesha area, head over to Gold's and ask for Mark V.  When I win the $75K from this body challenge, I'm putting a big chunk of it in his back pocket for more training sessions.  And if I'm willing to share winnings I have no reasonable shot at getting  with him, you should be spending ACTUAL cash on him...you won't regret it.  Well, okay, you may not love the pain he puts you through, but you will see results!


If you do, tell him Sarah sent ya.  (Yes, I'm hoping I get a couple free sessions for referring people to him!  PITY SESSIONS!)

Sarah makes friends with a personal trainer...

Good afternoon!

So it's Friday and it's been two weeks now since my gym membership was restarted after a temporary freeze due to Hubby's job loss back in January.  (He's gainfully employed again, thanks.)  Have I been to the gym in the last two weeks?  No, because I'd gotten into a lovely habit of NOT going these last six months, thanks.

I was talking about going with my friend Dee (no, that's not her real name, but the name of the gym isn't SILVER'S either.  Gotta protect the innocent, me, from lawsuits, ya know!)  and Dee mentioned that she was thinking about joining Silver's.

I felt it was vitally important I warn her against a couple of things up front.  And, given how hard she was laughing once I told her this tale, I figured I should probably give you all a glimpse into my life as a gym rat.



About a year ago, a brand new Silver's Gym opened in the space that used to be a grocery store with a very good bakery.  No irony there.  My favorite coffee shop shares a parking lot with the gym...as does my favorite Chinese place, sub place, and pharmacy that has my favorite candy.  Hubby mentioned that I should look into a membership, since they were still under construction and memberships were super cheap.

Super cheap, by the way, is a relative term that means different things to different people.  In this instance, super cheap means they were going to wave the sign up fee  (which they actually took out of my account anyway "by Mistake" and then it took them six weeks to refund it...) and since I signed up for a membership when all they had was three treadmills in an unairconditioned cubicle, I was going to have the privilege of paying under $30 a month  ($29.99) for the rest of my life.

Bonus, one of the things with my new Silver's membership was I got two sessions FREE with a personal trainer.  I'd never had a personal trainer before.  I've watched "Biggest Loser" like a million times.  Dee and I watch it together, while we drink wine, eat chocolate and heckle the "Losers."  (is that wrong?)

So it was with visions of Jillian and Bob dancing in my head that I went to my first session.  I was teamed with a studly young dude named Steve.  (That's his real name.  I don't care about getting sued by him.)  Our first session, apparently, was about talking.  We talked about what I was doing right  (not much..but I drank enough water every day.)  and what I was doing wrong  (too much for me to list in this blog.)  We set a goal for me.  (I wanted to stop having to shop in the Gigantor Lady department at Mumus R Us.)

The second session, he promised, would be all about work.  So bright and early on the Saturday of 4th of July weekend last year I popped in for my second free session with Steve. 

Steve was eating breakfast when I got there.  It seems he, too, enjoys the donuts and frothy creamy drinks from my favorite coffee place across the parking lot. 

"Go get on the treadmill," says he, inhaling another bite of glazed donut.  "I'll be there in a minute."

I didn't question it.  I mean, this is what Bob and Jillian do, right?  Eat donuts while the fatties warm up?

So after about fifteen minutes of my free hour, Steve strolls over, and says, "You need to speed that up."  He then takes it upon himself to set the treadmill to a speed I wasn't aware my legs were capable of matching.  Then, still blowing DONUT CRUMBS ON ME he starts a conversation with me.

"What do you?"

"I'm an author...."  pant, gasp wheeze.

"Really, what have you written?"

It should be noted, and I speak for writers everywhere, I hate that question.  What have I written?  EVERYTHING since I was five.  What have I published...that's the bigger question.

"My-first-book-"  gasp choke

"What's it about?"  More crumbs on his part, more panting on mine.

I pushed the "PANIC" button on the treadmill and said, "Skippy, we can talk or you can kill me with this treadmill, but we cannot do both."

"Let's go to the machines," says Crumb Boy.

Now we're sitting on one of those muscle machines, you know the ones that sort of look like something the Medici's would have loved?  Or maybe something born of the Spanish Inquisition...whatever.  I tell Crumb Boy Steve that I want to work on my GUT.  Which means, of course, we spend all of our time torturing my arms.  It must be something like Trickle Down Economics...

"So what's your book about?" asks the very interested Crumb Boy, who is now eyeing a blond woman who just strolled in.

"Oh it's about a woman in her middle years, who's in love with a retired rock star, sort of like Rick Springfield."

"Ummm, who?"

At this point I stop trying to pull the 900 pound weight Steve's attached to whatever pully and lever machine I'm using and I say, "You don't know who Rick Springfield is?  How young are you?"

Crumb boy take a swig of his frothy beverage.  Did I mention he got it with the whipped cream?  "Never heard of him.  Hey Biff, have you ever heard of Rick Springfield?"

Now, Biff is three machines down, torturing another woman who looks about my age and weight class.  She stops trying to hoist a ball the size of a small cow over her head and says, "OH I JUST LOVE RICK SPRINGFIELD!"

AHA!  I have made a friend at the gym!  I start talking to her about his tour schedule and all that, while Thing one and Thing two are trying to decide if Rick Springfield was a president or something they probably should have learned in junior high, or maybe they just haven't gotten to that chapter yet in their high school history class.

Suddenly Steve realizes it's almost the end of our free hour and he does NOT want me to have ANY FUN, and therefore hire him as my actual personal trainer.  So he gets this serious look on his chocolate stained face and says, "You can talk, but there's no stopping the work out!"

I do two more reps  (that's gym talk for attempts to lift something that's far too heavy) and my time is up.

I walked out of the gym and out of Steve's life.  The next three days I was unable to lift anything because I couldn't bend my arms.  This got in the way of my adult beverage consumption over the holiday weekend.  Very hard to drink a glass of wine when you are unable to lift your hand to your mouth.  I had to bend at the waist  (My gut muscles were very nice and flabby thank you) and drink through a straw.  On the bright side, I think I lost a pound because I couldn't actually lift food to my face.

So tonight I'll make an attempt to get back into the gym.  I won't be working with a personal trainer, of course.  If I going to get food on myself, I'd like it to be food I've chewed, not someone else.

And on that note, hey, come on down to Silver's Gym and work out with me!  (I'll be the one sitting on the recumbent elliptical, watching the movie in Cardio Cinema!)