There's always a silver lining

I'm pretty sure that I had breakdown with those random thoughts yesterday, y'all. I didn't get my shake for lunch so my whole day was out of whack and I was thinking in fragments. I wanted chocolate, pop (or soda, for those of you located in other parts of the country) and really, just to start the day over and more positively. Preferably in stretchy pants.

After work I went to the gym to see my trainer for the first time in a month. The routine is that we weigh in (see yesterday's entry for that delightful exchange), measure BMI and fat percentage and then discuss nutrition for awhile before the work out.

I trudged up to her office feeling like a whale, or a moose or something that trudges, keenly aware of the size of my bottom in the yoga pants I was wearing. Walking in, I sat down and we exchanged pleasantries about her trip (she's from Lebanon and was there visiting family). She even gave me a gift! A little pocket mirror, that is "folkloric" according to her, and Lebanese candy. CANDY. Worst. Trainer. Ever... or maybe the best, but whatever... she gave me CANDY before we discussed nutrition. This is the crap I'm dealing with, people.

The dreaded weigh-in was upon us. I stepped on the scale and...

I had gained 4 pounds from last week.

FOUR.
EFFING.
POUNDS.

I immediately teared up out of sheer frustration. She was clearly unsure what to do with my emotional breakdown, so she tried to console me. Women are only their ideal (read: not retaining an ocean of water) weight 10 days out of the month. What did you eat this weekend, how's your cardio, how much water are you drinking, yada, yada, yada. I have been rocking with all of it and four pounds was not what I wanted to see after that much work. Also I was pissed because I cried. I'm kind of a loose cannon with emotions anyway...I've been known to cry at commercials from time to time (that damn Sarah McLachlan animal cruelty video is ricidulous) but I manage to keep it together at the gym in front of my well-meaning trainer.

The next thing was to measure my BMI and fat percentage. With a quivering lip and tears still threatening to fall, I grabbed on to the stupid unholy gizmo that measures that stuff. Both numbers were the lowest they have been since I began this journey in September. YES!! VICTORY!

Then, she checked the calendar... April 22. The last time she took my measurements was January 21, and she does it every 3 months. Surprise! Yesterday was measurement day. Oh dear.

The number on the scale doesn't determine health!

If the BMI and fat percentage weren't enough silver lining for totally bombing the weigh-in, this tops it.

She measured biceps, hips, waist, chest, and thigh. I HAVE LOST INCHES IN ALL OF THEM! Since I started working out with her in September, I have lost a total of 9 3/4 inches! Take THAT, you stupid scale! My sister posted this picture of me on facebook yesterday. Ok, so this isn't me and isn't what I look like half naked, but it's what I WILL look like! Proof that the number on the scale doesn't matter.

The work out was the exact same work out she did with me just before she left. She wanted to see if I'd been doing my "homework" (work outs she'd left more me to do in her absence). We did the same work out, but unbeknownest to me, she upped the weight on every machine for every exercise. Checking her log, I increased my weight for each exercise with ease! Meaning, I aced my homework! Bam.
This morning I woke up at 5am to do my p90x because my wonderful fiance fixed the dvd player last night. Shoulders and arms today! Then after a shower and my back-on-routine breakfast (3 egg whites, one egg, diced tomatoes, diced mushrooms and chopped spinach), I settled in to my daily battle with my closet on what to wear.

This midwest weather is nuts and I'm sick of pants and sweaters. I want to wear skirts but I digress. I was looking to wear something different today, not just the same ol' stuff I wear every week. Rifling through my clothes, hanger by hanger, I stumbled on a pair of pants I have hung on to for some reason even though they haven't fit since 2009. They have never been my favorite pants, but they are a fun blue/gray color summoning spring and they are different from the black that I always wear.

There's nothing more miraculous for someone who struggles with weight than to risk her self-confidence and the mood of the whole day by putting on a pair of pants that she hasn't worn in a few years. Usually, once they  make it past my hips, I'm home free. They not only cleared the hips, but they zipped! They. Fit. (cue the choir of angels singing 'Hallelujah')

They are still a bit snug and still not my favorite pants but I'm wearing them today because I freakin' can. Hooray!