Hi, my name is Amber and I’m a workaholic. Ok, ok, ok not reeeeeally. But, the last few months have taught me how very much I actually enjoy having, no make that, desire having (?), no, that’s not covering it either, lets go with physically, emotionally, & mentally NEED TO HAVE-a job, a routine, a paycheck, a life outside of my livingroom tv & couch. I have encompassed a whole new level of lazy that I’m ashamed to publicly announce, but I’ll get into that later. Ultimately, up until 4 days ago, I genuinely believed (and was desperately counting on the fact) that August would finally bring an end to my housewife days. Oh how very, very wrong was I.
Now, where should I begin my crazy whirlwind tale? Well, I’m sorry if you don’t have all day for a 9 month detailed history, but I clearly do. Oh relax, I'll break it up into segments. Afterall, a girl's gotta eat. So let’s start at the beginning...
Early January 2011. At the gym before work. I can not finish my warm up weights without needing to pause between reps and take a break. I check and recheck the weight to be sure I didn’t pick up a heavier set than I meant to. Verdict? I must be regressing, because this is my typical warm-up weight set. I decide I need to eat more protein.
Later that week, increase in protein has done nothing for me. Well it probably has, but not anything that can be useful during my weenie 10 lb warm up set. I decide to forgo resistance training for a while, and work on my cardio. Hello treadmill. I hate you, but I woke up early & already had my pre-workout shake. I’m here, you"re here, lets do this. I step on, waiting to find my stride which usually kicks in at about 1/2 mile. 1/2 mile comes and goes-strideless & I’m cramping already, 3/4 mile passes by with me huffing & puffing as if I’ve just run a 5k. I get to a the mile marker, and slow to a brisk walk, wheezing like an asthmatic Floridian grandmother. What. Is. Happening. I call it a day, get in my car, start to head home & totally break down. Bawling. Where has all the progress gone that I’ve worked so hard for over the last 6 months? Aaron had been such a good trainer. Now I can’t even get through a warm up? I must be coming down with something. But wait, am I really crying over a bad workout? LITERALLY CRYING? Why yes, yes I am.
I get home. Aaron asks how the gym was. He doesn’t know I’ve been crying. Until I start to tell him the horridness of my sudden decaying body & that I can’t believe the regression in the matter of only a week or two. He asks why I’m so emotional about it, everyone has periods of regression at the gym. Thanks sensitive hubby. Clearly, they had not yet covered the chapter of counseling devastated clients in his personal training courses yet. Clearly this is also a prime example of why its dangerous to take personal training advice from your spouse. I stalk out of the room, pouting like a 4 year old, & go change. As I’m taking off my sports bra, I realize I’m in pain. Not from the super strenuous warm up weights, or the marathon single mile leisure jog, but from taking off the bra. OhLordinheaven I prayed for the pain to go away or for me to just pass out. Never before had the boobies been a source of pure evil agony. I took a shower, hoping the hot water would relax things, I must be getting close to that time of the month. Normally, I’d know EXACTLY how close I was to starting, to the hour (for reals), as I diligently chart the cycles, temps, & whatnot. But one evening my darling husband ran to Blockbuster “real quick” (we were in the midst of watching Dexter, & we desperately needed the last DVD of season 4) & left our paper fetish dachshunds in our bedroom, where my charts lived on my nightstand. He returned to find our naughty dachshunds had eaten my charts. And silly Amber didn’t have a back up copy. And Amber had no recollection of the date of her last cycle. Sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas is the best I could do.
Ok, no big deal right? We will just use alternative prevention measures (as becoming parents was not a role we could even fathom at the moment...Aaron had just gotten out of the Army in the spring, was currently unemployed & working on his personal training certificate, and I was working very full time & enjoying this new fitness lifestyle Aaron had helped me initiate). Alternative prevention measures are great & effective, if you are acclimated to using them (which we weren’t) or if you just USE THEM (which we did, almost every single time). ***Fun Fact: “almost” is a life-changing word.*** Before charting, I had been on the pill. It was a magic pill, but it was causing high blood pressure. So I stopped the magic pill and started charting. Charting was magic too, for the 8 months I had been using it. But the charts didn’t come in magic, dachshund-proof paper.
So anyway, my boobies are sore, I’m an emotional mess, my body is tired, weak, & decrepit at 28 years of age. I bet my cycle is just around the corner. I have a new sense of calm, just KNOWING that this must be what’s going on. I smile with relief as Aaron comes into the room & decides this is the moment to share with me that he’s been thinking & it really doesn’t make any sense for my workouts to have regressed to this level of low. What? I thought we had covered this. I know he’s still in school for this, but come-on, please don’t give me two completely opposing stances in 15 minutes & expect me to be ok with this. That’s all it took. I started bawling. He asked what was it now? I told him that my boobies are sore, I’m an emotional mess, my body is tired, weak, & decrepit at 28 years of age. The next thing he said caught me totally off guard. Everyone else probably would have seen it coming for miles, but not I, self-proclaimed queen of denial regarding anything that is not in my planner, on my calendar, or lining up with my immediate reality. “Take a pregnancy test. Do it now.”
No comments:
Post a Comment