Transitioning the Wrong Way

While I've been in this transitioning of lifestyle mode, seems my body has also been in a transitioning mode...and not in a positive way. My boobs have gone from a 32DD to a 34DDD. Is that even a size? Sounds like a made up size to me. Like they're afraid to tell you you're turning into fatty and need to move up to size E, cause that just sounds so scary. So they just added another D to the number...cause everyone thinks a D is the perfect size. My bingo arms have spread from my triceps all the way down to my wrists. And my love handles are now luggage straps! I weigh myself almost every day and notice slight fluctuations in weight, a couple of pounds up or down from day to day depending on water weight, of course. How can I expect anything different when I haven't done anything differently?

Okay enough is enough. I've been relying on walking to keep me in shape for far too long. My body just scoffs at my attempts. "What? You're going to climb up the top of Queen Anne hill again? Challenge me why dontcha?" It's definitely settled into my power walks, running for buses and walking miles because I just don't have other transportation. So after a few weeks...or maybe month (time flies) of missing yoga classes due to holiday socializing, pet sitting galore, I started back up at my favorite studio and it's been great. My friends also gave me wonderful gifts of yoga for Christmas (a great CD, DVD and lavender eye pillow) which I've been getting much use and enjoyment from.

On Sunday I went to a challenging body sculpting/cardio class at the health club down the street from my house. It'd been quite some time since I'd done a class like that. I can't even remember how long it'd been, that's how long it'd been. I used to be an avid gym goer, but once I went to Europe, that all stopped. No funds for joining gyms and clubs, so I relied on my walking. I went to this class, but felt a little out of my comfort zone. Maybe things had changed since my last visit-like my physical capabilities. As we were lining up outside the studio door waiting for the prior class to get finished, I noticed I was surrounded by 20 something year olds. Uh oh, this could be a mistake, my 44 (and a half) year old self was saying.

Once inside I discovered a whole new array of equipment. We set up our step benches (okay, these were the same- I was familiar with these), I noticed the other gals putting together something. What are we doing? I'm trying to keep up already! We are putting together barbells. Oh, right, choose your weights and put them on. What weight? How much should I start with? I look around at my compadres and follow suit. Gather the rest of the tools: bands, balls, dumb bells, mats, arrange them around the step bench and we're ready to go! The instructor, Natalia, from the Eastern Block, gave no mercy. We pumped, we stepped, we worked our hip flexors, glutes and every bit of ab we had, and then more glutes and more arms and more cardio stepping. It was a good old sweaty workout. Seeing my reflection in the mirror kept me going. How did I gain 10 friggin' pounds and think I actually looked okay? Somehow when standing in your mirror alone at home you can convince yourself that you actually look pretty good (okay so I'm slightly delusional). Then I stand next to a fit instructor who I'm pretty certain is my senior and looks fabulous and my self confidence is crushed into dust.

The workout felt great, I got through it somewhat respectably, and after talking to the youngin's I was glad to hear the 20 something year olds got their asses kicked just as well! I will definitely return, for my physical appearance as well as my health, of course!