Jillian Michaels kicked my ass

Since I have been having so much success with the paelo diet - down 7 lbs so far in 1 month - and the bouts of exercise I've been getting in make me feel better, I decided it was time to step it up.  I bought the Jillian Michaels 30 Day Shred DVD since I know she can give results.

Since returning from Delaware (that's where I made my purchase) I've been looking at the still-wrapped DVD sitting next to the TV.  In all fairness, I did have a busy couple of days as soon as I got back to NC, but I could almost hear Jillian's voice from the DVD saying, "Get up fattie so I can kick your ass!"  I really want to be at a healthy weight and have the energy I know I can.  I'm only 34 for pete's sake!

Now, mama didn't raise no fool.  I know Jillian is tough and her workouts are no joke, but I also figured I had 20 minutes a day to complete one of her 3-2-1 cycles.  After spending most of the day being extremely lazy blaming it on the blah weather and the fact that I've been running around the like a chicken with its head cut off, I decided it was high time I took the cellophane off the case and see what Jillian had up her sleeve for me.  I go and change out of my summer uniform sundress and put on my exercise clothes.  I come back to the living room where my daughter pauses briefly from playing on my iPad to ask me what I'm about to do.  I tell her, "Mommy's going to exercise."  "Exercise?" she asks.  "I want to exercise too!"  I figure, why not, she'll be my workout buddy.  I pop in the DVD and I'm we're ready to go.  CSC has even gone to her room and put her sneakers on, too.

Jillian starts off the DVD calmly explaining that the 30 day shred is going to help me achieve all - around health and to consider her my personal trainer.  Oh goodie...she's made people on The Biggest Loser cry.  She goes on to tell me that this DVD is all about pushing myself if I want to see results. Ok, Jillian, I got you....let the torture shred begin....

I should have known after I completed the warm up and was slightly winded that I was in a little over my head.  The calm "you can do it" Jillian was gone and replaced with drill sergeant "Don't you effing think about wanting a break, bitch!"  I have to admit it was cute watching CSC do her version of the exercises and repeating after me when I said under my breath "Oh God, I'm going to die." or "I wanna barf."  We finished the first circuit and just when I was thinking, "Thank you Jesus, I survived!"  That bitch Jillian was up and running again telling me it was time to do the circuit again.  It was at that point that I had to stop.  Her workout is no joke, and I was so not ready for it.  Part of me feels defeated because I had to stop, but another part of me, the part that would have been puking her brains out in the toilet had I not stopped when I did, figured it was a good start and something I'll be working towards. I've seen the before and after pics online of people who have done the 30DS and they look amazing.  I want that.  But I also realize that while I am all about wanting to shock my system so that I see some change, I'm not interested in dying in the process.

I'll be going back to my abuser Jillian tomorrow, and hopefully I'll make it to the end of the workout.  If I do, great.  If not, I tried.  At least it's a start.

Jan 1978 - June 2011. Cause of Death: Zumba

I have heard of the Zumba phenomenon from a number of my girlfriends, all of whom said it was awesome.  Well, when I got home to my parents' house in NJ and saw my mom's gym schedule with several Zumba classes every day, I decided I was going.  Especially when she told me I looked like I was pregnant in my picture of me with Teresa from RHONJ.

Zumba is the latest trend in exercising.  Some genius somewhere realized that she was keeping in shape by going to da' club and figured she could capitalize and make money if she shared the concept of exercise via dancing with other fatties people who want to stay healthy.  Basically, when you take the class, you burn calories by dancing to Latin or hip hop music.  Sounds good enough, right?  Back in the day, I could booty shake with the best of them.  I mean, come on, I was a dancer for 10 years.  I had rhythm.  I had moves.  I could do this, right???  WRONG SISTA!

So off to Zumba I go with my mom - who has also never tried it - and I was excited to see what the class held.  The room was packed with every type of woman you could imagine.  Older women, young women, pregnant women, heavy women.  Even a skinny asian lady who apparently didn't want to wait for the instructor and "warmed up" by doing some of her own moves.  This chick was in it to win it.  Homegirl even had on legit dancer shoes.  What???  So, I see the instructor over in the corner getting the music set up to the song she wanted to start with.  She gets up to the front of the class and just starts doing her thing.  And everyone else knew to start with her!  HUH???  I'm used to the instructors putting on the little headset mic and saying something like: "Hey everyone!  I'm Tammy and welcome to (insert appropriate workout class).  Let's start off with our warm up. Legs apart AAAAAND big breath in..."

Yeah, JLo (that's what I'm going to call her because I'm sure she was a backup dancer for her at one point) starts busting a move ASAP.  Well, I'm not about to look lost, so I start getting my grove on.  We're shakin'. We're steppin'. We're mamba-in'.  I'm sweating so much I look like I just jumped in the damn pool.  My toes on my right foot are numb - probably out of fear - and I can feel my fat on my body shaking just a half a beat off.  I do the best I can since I'm new. *Side note: remember, my 59 year-old mother is in the class too, choosing to go in the back of the room, and I decide not to look at her because I'm sure I will start laughing at her WTF expression that I am positive is on her face.*  JLo stops.  Asian Zumba Lady goes to get her water.  Some ladies reach for a towel and their water.  I want to collapse.  I think: "That wasn't so bad.  Time for the cool down." BWAHAHAHAHAHA!  That was only 10 minutes of the class.  Let me repeat for those who missed that: THAT WAS ONLY 10 MINUTES OF CLASS.  Holy shit, I think I'm going to die.  Tell my daughter I love her. My mother comes up to me and says: "You know, we can leave.  Go get Starbucks." I look at the pregnant girl and the lady who is probably older than my mom and I reply: "Not if preggo and grandma stay."  So commence round two.  Ding Ding Ding.

JLo starts in again, and this time there's more shaking involved. And turning. And stepping with crazy flailing arms.  I find solace in the two other fellow curvy ladies in my area also moving about as well as I am.  They too have the "what the hell did I get myself into" looks on their faces.  What doesn't help is that the music JLo has chosen is Latin music.  Not that I have an issue with it.  It's just that I have never felt as coordinated dancing to it as Latin women are.  It's in their DNA. They come out of the womb knowing how to salsa. Again, JLo stops and I fall for it again.  Whew!  Thank God we're done.  ONLY FIVE FRIGGIN' MINUTES HAVE PASSED.  I now know what hell is like.  My lower back is one more shimmy from going into complete spasm.  I have heard how medical experts say the body breaks down near death.  I have a slight clue what they are talking about.  My mom shoots me a "It's not too late to leave" look.  Again, grandma and mom-to-be are still in the corner gearing up for more.  I grab my water, chug some down, shake my head, and get ready to go.  Not until the pregnant lady and grandma leave.  Round 3....bring it.

So rather than go through my slow and painful demise, I will give you the condensed version.  Several more sessions of "dancing" occurred during which I realized I should have not only packed a sports bra for my trip, but also worn it.  My poor twins were in places they had never been before.  I noticed several other women checked out of the class early opting to save themselves in order to see another yoga class.  JLo just kept right on bouncing.  She had to have sucked down about 10 Red Bulls prior to the class because if she's like this normally, I may have to resort to drastic measures.  What sustains my endurance is thinking to myself: "your mom said you looked pregnant" and not wanting to be perceived as such.  What makes me laugh - and I say that loosely because laughing would have required breathing which was something I was struggling with by 20 minutes in - was when JLo asked why she couldn't hear anyone having fun.  It's because we were all too busy trying to keep up and not die.

Now let me take a minute to reflect on the dancing aspect of this particular form of exercise.  I was pretty confident in my ability to dance and keep rhythm my whole life.  Like I said, I was a dancer.  Following beat was something that came naturally to me.  I remember my girlfriend telling me that her ability to dance left after she had a baby.  I told her she was silly and that she could still dance.  Her reply was that she looked like an old, white lady rather than someone who could keep up with the crowd she went to high school with.  I remember thinking, "Pshhh, that won't be me.  I will maintain my mad dance skills after I have a baby."  I hate it when I'm wrong.  It's almost like, without any sort of control over the change, your body begins to respond to music in a way never before experienced.  You think you can still move and grove like the good old days at da' club, but in reality, you look like a woman from a bad '80s movie.  I think when you're in the hospital either pushing your kid out or having a c-section, what the doctors don't tell you is that your ability to dance is removed along with the placenta.  You don't have a choice.  Unless you're a celebrity or very rich, you are unable to afford a cure.  You are forever diseased with looking like a rah-tard on the dance floor.

Well, finally, Zumba is completely over.  If there was a heart monitor attached to me, it would be flatlined.  Grandma and preggo are over thanking the instructor. I want to punch her in the face, but can't move my legs to get over there.  Despite all of this, I must be a masochist because rather than thinking "OMG I am so never doing this shit again," instead I think "I am so doing this again".  Why you ask?  Because I refuse to let something that I used to be good at defeat me.  I refuse to go gently into that good Zumba class and allow some booty shakin' to kill me.  I don't want to be a fat mom and get to the age of 50 or so and look back thinking I wasted my 30s.  So come Monday, I will be in Zumba again with my game face on.  Bring it JLo. Bring it.

So....my ass doesn't jiggle anymore

Not much going on with me. On a positive note, I had to get something out of the living room this morning in the middle of getting dressed and I noticed that my ass no longer jiggles when I walk. I have my trainer to thank for that. :)