I used to exercise on a regular basis. And then the fibro hit. My regular workouts caused flares and any floor work hurt like a motherfucker. So I stopped. I’ve always been the kind of girl who has to work her ass off just to maintain weight, let alone lose it. So no exercise, plus Lyrica, equals fat Julie! Of course, none of this matters. As far as any doctor is concerned, all my pain would magically disappear were I to lose a bunch of weight. Didn’t you know? Skinny bitches don’t have no pain. No, wait….my sources are telling me that skinny bitches suffer from life-altering chronic pain, too. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Who knew? Tired of doctors throwing shade at me and my pants squeezing my tummy just a little too tightly, (plus there’s all the women who have MS and run marathons- they are truly inspirations who make the rest of us look bad) I have finally reached the level aggravation that compels me to do something about my weight. I’m going to lose this weight and still have fibromyalgia pain! …….that’ll show ’em.
This morning, I got myself ready to Walk Away the Pounds with Leslie Sansone. It’s always been my go to, as it gets my heart rate up and works my whole body without being too hard on it. I put on shorts and pulled my hair back, (because I sweat more than a fat, pervy, mouth-breathing man, synced my Up fitness tracker, and went to fetch the DVD. Naturally, it wasn’t there. But I was not deterred; I was working out today, goddammit! I had a massive headache and no DVD, but this was happening! I spent a good 20-30 minutes searching the different video services, trying to find something that didn’t scare the fuck out of me. No, no 30 day Shred for me, Jillian. I already experience that just carrying the laundry down the stairs. Fortunately, I found Walk Away the Pounds on Amazon Instant Video. I paid $10 for something I own two iterations of already and got down to business.
My cat, Belle, sat there and watched me the whole time. Because that’s what everyone needs: a fluffy animal, sitting there, silently judging you.
Yes, thank you, cat. You’re so taken aback by my side steps and knee lifts that you fell over. Asshole. Despite my judgy cat, I marched on, modifying movements so as not to overdo it. After about 5 minutes, my calves said, “Fuck you, bitch. We out.” It’s an
Wait. I have to do this again to actually lose weight? Fuck.