Part Nine: Is it me?

I’m either getting a bit thinner, or the reduction in my daily calorie intake is making me delusional. I am entering that stage of my weight loss adventure where my body is starting to feel a bit less burdened on the inside (most of the time) and, as a result, I am starting to question whether my pants are marginally easier to zip because I am, little by little, shedding some millimeters off of my circumference, or if it is because they haven’t seen the business end of a dryer recently.

It’s not a bad place to be, in my opinion, considering that a couple of weeks ago I was thinking that I had made a horrible, horrible, horrible mistake by deciding to write publicly about something that I was increasingly not sure I could actually do. I now find myself in the position of thinking that I can do it, but of really needing to bring more physical activity into the mix if I’m going to be successful. I have yet to order my sassy boots to help get me out of the house and walk to work every day, so that has been a nonstarter so far because as fun as it is to walk several blocks in the snow with leaky shoes, I don’t find it ample incentive to get out of bed. But I am totally cool also, as an alternative, with the idea of waking up early enough to do a workout in my living room to one of my many bellydance-inspired workout DVD’s; alarming the cat and getting in shape all at the same time. The problem is: I don’t want to get out of bed that early. Never have, and probably never will.

I am not a morning person, and frankly, I don’t want to start being one now. I find myself grumpier when I wake up too early most days, and it lasts throughout the entire day. Then that day becomes a week and that week turns into months, and pretty soon there I am, a grumpy little curmudgeon, taxed and angry with the world and willing to give up all of the work I’ve done so far for one of those giant walnut brownies from Afternoon Delight. The distraction of my very heavy head feeling like it is separating from my body distracts me and breaks down my better judgment. All I can think about is sugar, desserts, and passing out in my bed…and maybe some really good chips…

But, if I don’t work out in the morning before my day gets rolling, then when can I? There is no other time. My days and evenings are packed with work of every ilk, and when I do have a minute to calm down, I generally prefer to spend that time with my boyfriend, my best friend, or my cat (or all three), while eating, watching Criminal Minds, and waiting for the new season of Lost to start. And then before I know it, it’s time for bed. I wake up in the morning, another day having been churned out by the universe, and I wonder when I’ll ever find the time to actually write (not just think about and scribble notes about) my book.

When it comes to compromising my sleep in the name of getting more in shape, I have a hard time buying it. Sleep is one of the most important rejuvenating things we do for our bodies. It is hard-wired into our brains because we absolutely need it. It is essential, and frankly, making sure we get enough sleep is indivisible from the maintenance of good health in our bodies. So, what do I do? I could split the difference, get up a half-hour earlier than I need to to run out of the house and catch the bus, but not quite so early that I have an hour-and-a-half to putz around and spend minutes at a time starting into nothing, willing myself to wake up. Or I could split the difference in another way - maybe I could get up and work out three times a week instead of every day…that might be more plausible. We’ll see.

You see, as surely as I know certain things about who I am, I am even more sure of who I am not. So the following list, (and I am passing no judgment here, just simply saying that the following are not for me) illustrates some of the things that I am not and, I can say with a good amount of certainty, will never be:

•A runner. Avid, avid walker yes, runner, no. I don’t care how many times my brother, who I love, trust, and respect, tells me that I just need to start slowly and build up a tolerance (apparently after which I will start loving it) to it. It ain’t gonna happen. Hell to the no. When I start running, it will be for my life, not for the sake of burning calories. I have been known to chase some people playfully around from time to time in my life, and that could be construed as running, technically, but when faced with the prospect of running to get in shape, it isn’t me. It just isn’t me. When I try to run, at some point my quads will start to hurt (if I get that far), but I am too distracted by the sharp pain of the air being forcibly ripped from my chest with each rasping, gasping, harsh breath that I am forced to take when putting my lungs under such duress. My throat gets dry immediately, and within seconds a pain akin to swallowing a handful of thumbtacks starts to take hold, more directed and poignant at that moment than the worst sore throat. And then comes the point where I get my feet under me again as I stop running and remind myself that this hellish torture is optional.

•A gym goer. Don’t get me wrong, this blog may be evidence enough that I appreciate a little self-embarrassment as much as the next person, but I can’t abide by paying to do it in a gym setting. Of all the establishments to enter, a gym is, as I imagine jail would be, a place that I always enter with a certain amount of trepidation and raw, unadulterated fear. I view the gym as essentially one large building outfitted with machines and tools and instructors who are there to engage you in a very private and intimate process - the process of molding your body from the soft, gelatinous mass that it has become (often due to your own personal negligence, which the trainers always seem to be all too aware of) into their version of firm and sculpted - so why would I want to go through that process in front of a lot of other sweaty people, all huffing and puffing in their gym shorts and (I tend to feel in my more paranoid moments) all looking at me like I don’t belong there? It is not a place where you can be alone or private at all. It is not a place where I feel comfortable enough to experiment with different equipment or exercises. All of those machines look unsettlingly like they could kill you with the wrong movement (I imagine it being like when someone accidentally gets folded up inside one of those hospital beds…though after writing that it doesn’t seem like that ever really happened, but the visual is all the same), and let’s face it - gyms are essentially large, expanded locker rooms. And they bring to my mind all of the same pitfalls associated with that atmosphere: slapping people’s butts with wet towels excluded, in a gym, like in a locker room, you still feel exposed, you still have to deal with the lovely smell, and if you’re me, you still have all the anxiety that goes along with it.

So yeah, the gym and I - not friends. *One caveat to this rule however for me is going to yoga classes at a yoga studio, particulary in my case, A2yoga (a yoga post is forthcoming). The vibe is so much more welcoming and I really feel absolutely un-judged and comfortable twisting myself into all sorts of different contortions and dancing all around the space with my yoga peers. Ooh, and I know I’m going to get a lot of flak for this, but I think one of the reasons that I am so much more comfortable at the yoga studio and doing bellydance is because they are very feminine environments. I don’t have to worry about any body embarrassment problems at all there, and it is actually fun, while I feel that the elliptical machine breeds a form of oppression and torture unnatural to the world: it seems to have the ability to physically slow down time. Whenever I have gone to a gym and gotten on to a machine, those are the longest timed intervals of my life.

•A Vegan. Here we go - I will eventually publish a post that encapsulates all of my opinions on veganism, but this will be the condensed version. While I respect and understand the standpoint(s) of veganism, and while I may eat vegan dishes by chance more often than not, at the end of the day, I just don’t wanna. I don’t want to be a full-on vegan, and I reserve the right to have free will. There are a lot of great arguments out there that promote veganism, the most compelling one of which that I have heard recently is from a reader who is a nutritionist and teaches classes on how to cook vegan dishes and how a vegan diet may help to fight cancer. In fact, if any of you are interested, there is a series of four classes going on right now, and you can find more information here.

I admire the track to wellness being marked with simple, clean food. For myself however, the reason I am writing this series is to find a way that I can eat the things I love in a way that is healthier and more sustainable for myself, for the planet, and for the welfare of the plants and animals that make up the food that I am eating without editing down my food to vegan fare. That being said, I have considered recently trying out a vegan diet for a couple of weeks to get myself back to a baseline from which I can begin to add different foods back to my diet, therefore isolating the foods that irritate my digestive system and body in general. I signed up for the vegan 21-day Kickstart, but I didn’t get past Day 1. Also, I find that when I look at diet plans and things to get an idea of what is being peddled out there, that the vegan diet guides are among the best in my opinion because they innately possess far fewer processed or altered foods. The major exceptions to this would be the vegan cheeses of the world, or the vegan “meat”. Something had to happen to that soy or that rice or that [insert your favorite non-animal based food here] to make it into these things. So, while I have mad respect for my vegan brothers and sisters, where the line is drawn in the sand, I walk on the side of cheese.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not hating on these things. In fact, I respect people who love running, people who are dedicated to going to the gym, and vegans; but I respectfully decline. As diverse as we all are, so too are our ways of keeping healthy, so let’s all find what motivates us and celebrate it.

*Also, I have had a lot of questions about bellydance and where to find good classes, so I wanted to post some upcoming sessions in case anyone is interested:

•Nadira is offering a few new sessions coming up in February at Kenville Studios here in Ann Arbor, and also at the Dance Pavilion in Ypsilanti. You can register online for the Kenville sessions here, and for more information, follow this link. •A new session for Unveiled Bellydance is starting this week. Check it out!

Also, I know this is a blog about a curvy girl, but whatever type of body type you have, it’s beautiful. Know that and you’re on your way to wellness.

More confessions of a (very) curvy girl will come out every Wednesday.

You can contact Elizabeth by e-mailing her at elizabethpalmer@annarbor.com.