04.26.2003 - 1:53 p.m.
I went to kickboxing this morning,
a feat I am feeling very proud of. I had one of those mornings
where you just want to lounge in bed until noon, plus I was feeling
a bit ashamed of having eaten not one, but two largish
bowls of veggie chow mein while watching not one, but two
episodes of MTV's "True Life" last night ("I Had
Breast Surgery" and "I'm Getting Married" - equally
enthralling in a unappetizing sort of way).
I had a good workout. It helped
that there were a bunch of new people in class - I can't help
it, I love seeing people crap out before I do. I think I've moved
up a rung in the class hierarchy: somewhere above the first timers
whose horrified expressions indicate they had no idea it was
going to be so fucking hard, yet somewhere below that damn girl
up in the front who can execute an enviable Jet-Li-esque back
kick and who apparently does not require oxygen or water unlike
gaspy, slurpy me.
I can see changes in my body;
muscles that weren't there before, body parts that have a little
less fat than before. It's encouraging, you know - Progress Is
Being Made. I don't know, though, how noticeable the changes
are to other people. JB doesn't count, that poor fucker has me
peppering him with questions like every day.
"Do I look better? Can
you tell I lost weight? What about my ass? Feel it, is it less
jiggly? LOOK AT MEEEEEE."
It's not really fishing, it's
more like hostage-torturing for compliments.
But secretly, I have this deep
need for one specific person to make a comment. It's someone
who has intimate knowledge of me, whose hands have manipulated
every non-bathing-suit area of my body. I'm talking about Val,
Every week I have a full body
massage - we're talking totally naked, deep tissue, the works.
She is contact with every muscle I have, practically. I just
keep sort of hoping she'll make some exclamation during our session.
Like "Wow, you've really been working out. I can tell."
Yesterday I had a massage.
And when she was working on my left leg, she paused. "Whoah,"
"Yes?" I eagerly
responded, muffled by the head rest. "What is it?"
"You have a rilly
big bruise on your thigh. Wow, that must have hurt," Val
clucked, and started on my right leg.
Oh well. The important thing
is that I'm feeling better about myself, me me me, and that's
good because today I'm doing some clothes shopping. Our vacation
is right around the corner - next Saturday we take off on our
Mexican cruise, and do you know what they subject you to on cruises?
"Formal" nights. Two of them, in this case. It's where
you're expected to dress up for dinner. I'm guessing Old
Navy won't cut it, so I need to find something a bit more suitable.
God knows I'll need every shred
of self-confidence I can muster to endure trying on evening-fucking-wear.
The last time I wore a dress, it was at a damn wedding. MY wedding.
go back :::
comments so far.
I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004