At the Y-M-C… Well, I’m Not There Yet

We did it. We joined the gym! More specifically, we joined our local YMCA which doesn’t like to be referred to as a “gym,” but for all intents and purposes, it’s a gym. I’m going to go there and stop being a Fatty Fathead.

Yes, I’m pretty down on myself as of late. (Of note: July goals are coming up tomorrow. I’m behind! But they’re coming!) My weight is not exactly dropping right now. Thanks to ten days at camp followed by my brother’s wedding, well, I’ve been eating more than usual. You would think with all the sweat involved with camping and standing in a heavy satin dress on a hot August day, some weight would have just sweated off my being. But no. I’m about five pounds heavier than my last weigh-in in June.

And because of this, despite having joined the gym, I am petrified to get up and go. In fact, I procrastinated so hardcore today that I don’t have time to go until after a meeting I have planned for today. I know. Lame, right? You join the gym to work on yourself. But. You see. The lady who runs our YMCA? She’s… amazing. She makes me feel like I’m the broadside of a barn and she’s a stalk of corn. (Nice farm speak, no?) And I have to talk to her when I get there this first time because I, a) need my picture taken, b) need to ask about morning child care, c) need to get the proper times that it is open because the website is wrong. But I can’t make myself do it just yet. Maybe when my butt is negative two sizes (but still hugetastically bigger than hers), I’ll be able to have a conversation. I’ll just send FireDad with the questions. And close my eyes for the picture.

I suppose it doesn’t help that my Husband’s grandfather recently called me fat, does it? Sigh.

What is it about the gym that brings out my desire to hide under the nearest locker room bench? Knowing that I was heading to the gym today, I had a dream about high school cheerleading last night. That’s right. In this dream, one of my friends on the squad and I met up in current day. She was hugetastic. And I was super slim. And, instead, it’s a total reversal of how it would be if we met in real life. Where are all these self-conscious thoughts coming from? And why doesn’t FireDad have these? And how do I make them go away? Short of liposuction and tummy tucks?

In short, this post was just me… procrastinating some more… when I know that all I need to do is step away from the cookies, get back on my schedule and suck it up and go to the gym. While waiting to leave for my meeting (after which I’ll go to the gym), I’m downloading some “workout playlists,” and I’m learning that I generally hate music that other people like. Perhaps I should make the FireFamily workout playlist for next week. No?

Encourage me. And by encourage me, I mean leave a really bold message telling me to GET MY DOOPA TO THE GYM. Help. But, just in case you’re worried about me not going, I am. See? I made myself accountable over at Go Workout Mom‘s weekly workout post. If you’re not doing it, you should be. (I won a prize one week! Yay free stuff!) I’m going. Really. I promise. (Do I get a cookie if I go? No? Hmm.)