I have written before about denial, and what a powerful mechanism it is. Yesterday, I talked to Cici, who I think I've mentioned is in phenomenal shape, and is not only an instructor in various forms of exercise, but is also very knowledgeable about physical therapy and the mechanisms of the human body.
She has this mentality of a competitor, which I have never had, but envy very much. She drives herself in a way I can't even imagine. Her motto is probably something akin to "Pain is weakness leaving your body." Whereas my motto is more like "Pain means you're doing something you shouldn't be." This disparity is readily apparent if you were to take one look at us. Her body fat is someplace in the viscinity of 0%. Mine is somewhere around bacon.
Regardless, she has agreed to take me on in the short term as a client to move into respectable shape. So, yesterday, she starts to explain the basic tenets of Pilates to me. Pilates, (which until recently I thought rhymed with Pirates) is a method of exercise developed by this guy who had chronic pain. It is all about Resistance and the ever-popular "core strength" the skinny people keep talking about. I'm all about resistance, too...to exercise. But, I am determined to lose this damn weight.
We have a fundamental agreement, Cici and I: our working out relationship is completely separate from our friendship. I don't want to use that time to visit or chat. I want to learn and improve my health. Also, no laughing. At me, specifically.
So, anyway, she is explaining to me about centering one's body and posture. She tells me to put my pelvis in neutral. (I am thinking that neutral sums up about all my body parts) but she tells me to make a level triangle between my hip bones and my pubic bone while laying flat. I am too embarrassed to admit that I can't find my hip bones under all my, um...skin. Then she has me methodically move my legs while keeping the rest of my body quiet. (Um, creaks and cracks are part of the package.)
Then, what every overweight person LOVES to hear upon their first foray back into exercise, "girl, you are weak." Fortunately, we have the Rules and I do not take this as a personal insult, but rather a declarative sentence regarding my total lack of muscle tone. She tries to align my body properly and says, "you don't mind if I touch your body to help you, do you?" I don't. Really. Except that it's mortifying. My belly resembles a partly deflated latex balloon: really soft and puckery.
Oh, God. This is awful. How did things get so desperate?
I think a high calorie alcoholic beverage will fix this feeling.
No comments:
Post a Comment