Fill My Life With Life: Exercise

I've always been aware of my weight. I have the typical chubby baby, fluffy child, obese teen that was bullied story, and knew (or felt) that's how most people viewed me. As large, as a target, as too much. So, for as long as I can remember, I've gone through seasons and rounds of trying to lose weight. I know about everything from Richard Simmons to Billy Blanks, from Jenny Craig to Weight Watchers, from only eating cabbage to only eating kale. I was amazed when Oprah lost all that weight, and disappointed with her when she regained it. And I used to watch "My 600 lb. Life" with absolute fascination.

My weight was how I realized how much I loved Prince. When he died, it felt like a family member who I meant to call, but somehow never got around to it, had passed. I went to a random lounge in Brooklyn on a Thursday evening because they were playing his songs all night. I went by myself, dressed in some aesthetic of purple, bought one drink, and surprised myself at how many Prince lyrics I remembered. Not just the Diamonds & Pearls, 7, Call My Name, or Kiss, but his rap from My Name is Prince flowed easily from my lips. How had I retained so much of his music? Then I recalled when I was a pre-teen/teenager, I would walk around my apartment complex as exercise and listen to Prince. It was Prince who told me that I could be the most beautiful girl in the world, him that reminded me that I did indeed have that look, that he would die for me, and that we could go crazy together. That someone (outside of family) would love me, just as I am. Oh, and of course I also Sexy M.F.,, Cream, and Get Off on repeat... I was still a teenage girl (lol).

Underneath it all, I believed the falsehood that once I was a certain weight, a certain size, a certain look - I would feel differently about myself and others would feel different about me too. I masked it as "getting healthy," that I had to work out and exercise all the time because I was in danger of being grossly unhealthy, a candidate for diabetes or high blood pressure, or all the countless diseases that they show between our favorite TV shows so that we'll be in fear and pay for medications that sound more like crazy rapper names than actual cures. Like Skyrizi, Rexulti, and the Funky Rinvoq Crew.

The truth is - I was thinner at one point - the thinnest I probably ever was, and that was right before the pandemic.... and I didn't even notice it. I had been exercising at least 4x's a week, taking 2-3 exercise classes at a time, becoming stronger with every rep. But, I couldn't see the change - I couldn't see myself clearly because in my mind I was still the fluffy girl who was called a "cow" and "fat ass" in the lunchroom. So, even when I had what I thought I wanted, I didn't notice and therefore couldn't celebrate or enjoy it. It wasn't until last year when I saw picture of myself from that time that I could really see how hard I worked and how much weight I really lost. And part of me wonders if I'll ever be able to get back to that again. And if I do, would I fully embrace and recognize it? Would I celebrate it for the accomplishment that it was/is? Or would I keep moving the goalpost on myself and only think of all the ways I'm not hitting the next imaginary goal?

Also, side note, who was the sadist that invented sports bras?? People always say that the hardest thing about exercising is to show up, to go to the gym, to walk into the class and follow the booming music and overly chipper instructor. I beg to differ - the hardest thing is pretzeling myself into and out of the breast crusher that are sports bras - it's its own torture device and last ditch obstacle that asks you... "do you really want to do this?" Why do I almost have to dislocate my shoulder just to get one on and off? Whose idea was it to make strappy fabric that looks like a holster to try and squeeze yourself into, just so you can work out for 30 mins? Is it just me??

Anyway, I recently started exercising again. I didn't mark the date because I was afraid of starting and then quitting after a couple of weeks. I often feel shame at how many things I've started and not finished. So instead, I start these quiet challenges for myself - can I move my body around for 15 mins two times this week? Can I do it for 20 minutes for four times this week? Can I do it everyday, for at least 30 mins? Building blocks. Progress. Daily start. Present to now. Short effort, but still effort. No promises about three months from now. No promises about a year from now. No big goal I'm running after. Just wake up and do it today.

The beauty of this is, each day is a fresh start, so even if I missed one day, it's fine, mercies renewed and all that jazz. The downside? Progress feels slow as hell! If I had a quarter for every time I thought about quitting or even better if I had a dollar every time I asked the question, is this even working? Am I getting healthier? Is this better than what I was doing before which was nothing? It's easy to say, "yes girl, it's definitely better." but when my back hurts and my arms are sore and even my knees underneath my knees (is that even a thing? Just go with me... lol) have pain, I begin to wonder. I've been at this now for at least two months (give or take) and the main word that keeps coming back to me is consistency.

I've been going to the doctor recently because I had some dizzy spells and maybe something going on with my heart, so since I have health insurance, now was a great time to put it to good use. During the appointment, there's always that moment when they take your vitals and ask you to step on another contraption of evil - the scale. The first time I did it during these check-ins, it showed me a weight that I haven't been since I was a teenager - that obese teenager - and I wanted to cry. I had done so much work and effort and because of death, grief, pandemic, transition, loss, pain, etc. all the work of 2017-2020 was erased in what seemed to be a blink of an eye. But by this time I had already started my mini-movement challenges, so I was hopeful - this was just the start, it's showing me where I am now, but that's not where I'm gonna be! It's not how you start but how you finish! The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step! I got this because I'm a boss b*tch! Positive affirmation word salad!! Can I get an amen??

A few weeks later I went and saw a cardiologist. I guess that happens when you get random heart palpitations, thinking you're going to pass out and whatnot. She did a full EKG and all the other tests. But again, I had to step on the scale and when I saw the number - I was actually heavier than when I first started. You say what now!? Excuse me!? Who's bad carnival funhouse is this and where can I get out please and thank you??

I sat there, already under a cloud of defeat while the cardiologist read through my test results. I was ready - the weight was the appetizer and I felt whatever she told me would be the main course, like, you're fat and you have high blood pressure. Or you're overweight and you're on your way to diabetes. You're obese and you have high cholesterol. Whatever it was, I already felt like I failed, so I braced myself for the news.

What did the cardiologist say? I have a clean bill of health. No signs of anything negative, no pre-anything, no main concerns or worries! #colormesurprised! She did say I was probably dehydrated and needed to drink more water, but that was an easy fix. This was probably the cleanest bill of health that I've ever had like ever. So even thought I'm at the heaviest weight I've been, I'm simultaneously probably the healthiest I've ever been... how Sway? This math ain't mathin'... someone make it make sense.... lol.

It reminds me of something a friend of mine said about setting goals. He said, that he no longer solely focused on the end goal (i.e. I'm going to finish this or that) but he was focused on goals that spoke to the overall process (i.e. I'm going to do this thing today). His reason was that you have to find something joyful in the process, because if you don't, you'll never get to the end goal. If you focus on the process and find the joy(s) in that, the goal will happen.

How that translates for me is - I now set my alarm for 6am (or 7 or 8, don't judge me... lol), I get up and put on workout clothes (sports bra be damned), I find the YouTube video I want to use for that day, and I do it - no extras, no fanfare. I now have started physical therapy to finally do things to strengthen my muscles and hopefully alleviate my back pain. I take notice of how I feel after I workout and when it feels good (as it often does), I store that memory so I know that's possible when I go to do it again. I remember that I'm healthy now, not working to get healthy. I show up for whatever challenge I've given myself for the day - and when I finish that challenge, I celebrate, toss it away, finish the day and do it again and again and again and again and again.. and if I slip up, toss it away and start again and again and again and again and again and again... and if I don't want to today, I sometimes don't and take a break and rest and then do it tomorrow again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again..... and again. :D

For funsies: an exercise class I took recently... #progress #Imworkingoutandsensitiveaboutmyish #erykabadu #stepsintherightdirection #onestepatatime #onedayatatime #oneworkoutatatime