I’ve enjoyed lifting weights since college. Heading to the gym was a good escape from the rigors of calculus and engineering classes.
However I haven’t been a member of a brick and mortar gym in ages. This summer we joined the YMCA. With my husband’s travel schedule I couldn’t consistently go on solo walks like I enjoy after spending all day with the kids. I could lift weights at home and still do sometimes, but workouts get interrupted easily with four kids. So in a fit of frustration with my oldest son, I signed us up. I rationalized the expense, figuring the amount I would have to pay in childcare could easily be quadrupled if I paid someone at my home. Plus coordinating the childcare seemed like a headache.
So back in June, me and the kids started going. I made it one solid week of going and then the kids got sick. I missed the next week and was grumbling and pissed off that I had wasted funds and I wasn’t utilizing the membership. Kids got better and I started back, lifting what I felt like and taking yoga or other fitness classes.
I was glad the kids were enjoying the childcare and I was getting some much needed time to tend to my own fitness goals. I’ve always wanted to be able to do a pull-up. And I enjoy watching people do Olympic lifts. I felt like I needed a lifting plan and while I know my talented husband could have probably drafted me one, I did my own searching.
A friend suggested some apps, one called Charley Mike. I loaded it on my phone and read through the workouts. The lady kind of freaked me out. I wasn’t at all to that level of lifting so I kept on searching. On Amazon I found a few books but one was called “The New Rules of Lifting for Women.” I liked the reviews so I decided to get it. I ordered it at the beginning of August. I read through the book and liked the lifting plan. Didn’t care for the nutrition plan but decided I would follow the lifting and do my best to eat enough protein and vegetables.
My first workout using NROL for women, my friend Amy joined me. It was quite ridiculous watching us…well me do those first deadlifts. Amy was able to join me on a few workouts until mid-August hit and she started back to school.
I’ve managed to get three workouts in nearly every week, only missing the day after Thanksgiving and one day in New York City. I’m almost done with stage five of the book, the whole plan has seven stages that go for about six months.
My lifting ability has increased, I’ve discovered some big imbalances in my body, and I gaining a lot more strength. What’s been fun is I took my measurements for making clothes at the beginning of all of this and two more times since. It has helped me see my body reshape itself in certain areas. My glutes/hamstrings tend to be a weaker part of my body. I started having issues in my right hip only about a month into lifting. Lunges were so hard for me to do on my right side. With some slow strength training, chiropractic care and only using my own body weight, I can now do lunges without hurting.
About three weeks ago, I started to feel like my clothes were fitting differently, but not because I’ve dropped any weight. In fact, my weight has stayed right around the same these past few months. However, as I’ve done more squats, lunges and deadlifts, my legs have gotten a little bit bigger. I didn’t realize by how much until I compared measurements. Check out the image below to see the number differences.
This post is partially just for my recording what I’ve been doing, and partially because my friend Vanessa has been a huge inspiration for me. I’ve always thought that well defined arms on a man or a woman is extremely attractive. Vanessa has been working her butt off at the gym for a few years now, and I’ve had arm envy for the past year because of her. I have a few other friends that are climbers, Adele and Susan and they too impress me with their agility and strength. By them sharing themselves through social media, they all have been encouragers for me, even though we don’t live in the same city. So here are a few photos to show just a bit of progress. I know that it may take me years to get to the level of strength I want, but each week there are slight gains. So thanks to my friends that have encouraged me.
Me trying to make it look like I have some muscles.:) They’re there…
I’ve been in a crummy mood. Missing my husband as his job requires him to travel a lot for work. My frustrations have been made more so by my inability to calmly deal with my four kids normal antics.
Last week we were supposed to visit friends in Chattanooga but only made it half way due to what we think was an overheated transmission in our van. My husband was a few states away so he helped via telephone as much as he could. A college friend has parents that lived close to our breakdown and they came and saved the day by coming and help me diagnosis the issue and then following me almost all the way home. That trip has forced us to realize that our Honda Odyssey may be nearing its time with our family at 213,000 miles. It is driving okay this week but I’m being cautious with my speed.
We have another vehicle, a GMC Envoy. We bought it shortly after me starting at TVA. We bought it with a loan and we paid it off years ago. It has been our backup vehicle for a few years but it too has gotten up there in mileage (190k). In the desire to get a new vehicle, we want to sell this to help fund a new family car but has had some issues with the instrument cluster for a few years. The speedometer hasn’t worked since probably 2011, some of the other gauges started to go in the last year or two but the final thing to make me do something about it was the odometer light going out. Pretty hard to sell a vehicle when no one can see how many miles are on the car.
So I looked online and saw that as auto shop would charge in the $400-500 range to repair the instrument cluster. I found some other places that would repair it for $99 if you ship the instrument cluster to them. I thought that was pretty reasonable, so this weekend I removed the instrument panel. I will say that my husband helped by disconnecting the battery as I was afraid of shocking myself.
I removed the panel easily. However, I did neglect to roll up the windows before disconnecting the battery. Luckily my husband remedied that a short while later. That evening I found a diy video on repairing the instrument panel. A pretty simple repair of the stepper motors and some basic soldering knowledge and we could do it ourselves with a kit from Amazon. My husband seemed confident that either one of us could fix it so I figured for a $30 kit it was worth a try. The odometer fix involved checking the soldering joints and possibly replacing some resistors.
The kit arrived yesterday. Yesterday was a hard day. We had homeschool coop the day before and the kids were still worn out. Liam had a drum lesson and the other kids were just getting on my nerves. I was still missing my husband and only got to talk to him for a couple of minutes. My mental state this morning wasn’t in a good place. We got through school work and Helena was refusing to nap. I decided to tackle the instrument panel knowing it might not go well.
I had to take a break after I opened the panel up as Helena was cranky. I got her to sleep and turned on video games for the kids and got started.
My engineering degree finally became useful today! I figured out how to use the desoldering sucker and got to work removing the solder from the stepper motors. There was some trial and error but I did it. I replaced all the motors and decided to do the LED lights too. I couldn’t find any issues with the odometer connections.
I put the instrument panel in place and needed to reconnect the battery. Honestly, I had the neighbor come help me. Apparently I have a fear of getting shocked. He came over and did reconnected the battery for me and then I felt ridiculous for my fear. Turned the car on, success!! The instrument gauges worked. I fist bumped the neighbor, extremely joyful at this $30 repair.
I had to close the door and saw that the odometer is working again. Took baby girl for a test drive down the street and back and the speedometer works too!
I needed a feeling of success today.
Here are some photos of the process.
The boys were happily playing outside tonight. I was on the computer and I hear screaming. I don’t move right away but the screaming is getting louder so I run towards the back door.
Nick is screaming and has blood pouring out of his face.
***Back history. I don’t do blood. Wisdom teeth out, loopy, I see bloody gauze in my mouth at age fifteen, I start screaming, getting nauseous. Donating blood, both times I did it, I get white as a ghost, my skin starts sweating, I almost pass out. ***
Nick with blood pouring out of his face. I actually stay calm talking to him. I tried to figure out where the blood is coming from, his mouth and nose are covered. I escort him to the bathroom and use the nice black towel and hold it on his face as I try to take deep breaths and keep talking to him. But, the waves of nausea start to roll over me.
I hand him a wad of toilet paper and ask him to hold it to his nose. I yell for Liam, but I guess he went back outside. I’m trying really hard to tell my brain that it is just blood, but I’m starting to sweat. Nick keeps trying to show me all of the blood in the tissue. Each time he does my body has another wave of nausea. I crawl/walk to go get an ice pack to put on his Nick to stop the bleeding. While in the kitchen, I notice that Helena is covered in blue latex wall paint. I grab the paint can that I left on the floor and put it up higher. Helena looks like she belongs in the movie Braveheart. I get the ice pack to him but then know I need another adult.
I’m pretty sure it is his nose, but I’m not sure if he broke it. I can’t even look at him now and call my mom. No answer. I call my stepmom. No answer. I see my reflection in the mirror. Ghost white. Nick is showing me another wad of bloody toilet paper. I run to the other bathroom and grab him another roll of toilet paper and shove a wad in his hand, avoiding all eye contact with the blood fill tissue. I call Damon on FaceTime as I know he is at a business dinner. No answer. Then I get this…
He calls me on FaceTime but the horribly ridiculous part of this now is I’m laying as flat as possible in the hallway next the bathroom. My poor six year old is holding it together pretty well and I’m laying on the floor holding the phone. My stomach is churning and I can tell that the blood is leaving my own face. Next to the bathroom are two rolled up sleeping bags. I cradle one in my arms and my 1.5 year old daughter flops onto the other one as I try to tell my husband what is happening.
Luckily Liam comes in and takes the phone to Nick. However he holds the phone so close to Damon that he can’t see Nick. I hear the word blood like fifty times and I slink away to my bedroom to momentarily try and hide from the word blood. He talks Nick through what he needs to do and I crawl back and get the phone and tell him I have to get another adult here.
Luckily, two more calls to my mom, she answers and I tell her what’s going on. She came over and I once again went back in to Nick. Damon told Nick to lean over and to keep blowing his nose. I sit on the edge of the bathtub and hold the ice pack again on Nick’s neck. He keeps blowing his nose despite me telling him that I think the bleeding has stopped. The sound of it made me nauseous again. I finally put on a YouTube video of Lost Boy and we sang until my mom got there.
So, lesson learned…I don’t do blood very well at all. Thank goodness for all the medical professionals out there that can. I can deal with other bodily fluids, but blood is not in my skill set.
For those that made it this far, you might be wondering how Nick hurt himself. He fell face first from our jungle gym. He was trying to do some kind of flip and misjudged the landing. He is okay and went to bed happy. No bruising, just a bad bloody nose. If you’re the praying type, do say a quick prayer for him tonight that he will be okay through the night.
Today Grant turned four. We had a day filled with donuts, and playing outside. We headed to Nuvo Donuts for breakfast. Grant had a Captain Crunch donut.
We had a low key party, which included a friend with her three boys and my mom and step-dad. Grant is into dinosaurs right now. The other day he explained how he wanted his cake to look. He described one that had a volcano and dinosaurs on it. It took me five minutes to get that he wanted an Anklyosaurus birthday cake. Sadly, I didn’t even try to make an Anklyosaurus cake, but I did make a sugar filled cake with a volcano made out of donuts. Grant was very insistent on having four donuts on the cake.
While assembling the cake, I ate one of the sour cream donuts. I figured he wouldn’t know it only had three versus four. It was good!
This story is too funny not to share.
We were about to load ourselves back into the car to head home from my Granny’s in Paris, TN. Liam shouted that he had found a frog.
It was nestled into the driver’s side door handle of our gray van. I yelled for all the kids and my Granny to come look at it. We were ohhhing and ahhhing over the small frog. Each kid trying to gently touch it. I picked the pale green frog up, his body feeling slightly sticky and a lot squishier than the frog I held last week in Florida. Grant asked if he was dead. He wasn’t, just holding tightly onto my finger. Everyone was taking turns touching his back.
He was sitting on my left palm, face pointed towards the tips of my fingers. I was talking to my grandmother when I looked down and see the frog’s butt raise up. Clear liquid shoots straight back towards me. Liquid goes all over my hand and sprays my shirt. I reactively throw the frog into the air. He flies up, lands on Grant’s shirt and starts climbing his neck. Grant begins giggling as the frog tickles him.
We all start rolling in laughter. My Granny laughing and saying that I’m going to get warts now because he peed on me. I lift the frog off of Grant and place him in the nearest tree. I immediately went inside to wash my hands and shirt of the frog pee. I so wish we had a video of the whole incident. So much laughter. Here is a picture of the little guy.
My mind has been swirling with thoughts from yesterday’s post. The post was not inspired by one incident, but many, many interactions with women. I don’t hear the same comments from men on their bodies.
Can you imagine these comments coming from a man? Would you say these things to describe another woman, or only yourself?
“I hate the way these pants make my butt look.”
“Ugh, I hate my face.”
“I can’t wear that, it makes me look fat.”
“Oh, look at that picture, why don’t I look like that now.”
“No, don’t look at the scale.”
“I hate my skin.”
“I hate my face.”
“My nose is too big.”
“My things are too big.”
“My feet are ugly.”
“My nose is crooked.”
“My teeth are too yellow.”
“I can’t wear a two piece, my stretch marks are horrible.”
“My hair is a wreck.”
“Look at my awful arms, they jiggle too much.”
“My mid-section looks like a can of dough about to burst.”
“I can only wear this if I wear an undergarment to hide my rolls.”
Ladies. My body is not supermodel quality. Heck, supermodel’s bodies are not supermodel quality. We live in an airbrushed, filtered world where everyone alters their images. Yesterday’s picture was not my favorite when I first saw it. The angle, the lighting…at first, I wanted to delete it too. Then I looked at it. I saw my own smile. It is my true smile. I saw the creases around my eyes, my laugh lines. I saw my toothy and crooked, gummy grin and I know in that moment I was happy. My “image” is not perfect, whatever perfect means. I know that if I stay in the negative head space, repeating whatever negative self-talk that might be there, it won’t lift me up.
When I am around other women, I hear them negatively talk about their bodies. It happens in nearly every day conversation. They grab the extra skin around their middle, and shake it with disdain. They struggle with breasts that have migrated to their middles. Many, many years ago, they were four to five inches higher, but pregnancy, gravity, life has caused them to settle into a new and different shape. They pull at their skin on their face and stretch it back to reveal someone, something…
Women are unhappy. Living in a skin that they so badly want to change. I get the desire for change. I want to be stronger. I want to be healthier. I want to live a long time. And none of those things have to do with being a specific image. The self-loathing and hate that spews from women’s mouths is sad and discouraging. Why have so many chosen to hate parts of themselves? What happened in your past to cause you the hurt? I pray that anyone that needs it, realizes that a key to “beauty,” is changing their perception about themselves. Confidence=beauty in my mind. A woman that speaks positively about herself, about her intelligence, about her body is beautiful.
I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.
The twinkle in your eye.
The glow of your radiating skin.
The gentle smile.
Your goofy grin.
The creases around your eyes that show you have filled your life with laughter.
Your intelligence radiates from every part of your being.
Your body has nurtured another being.
Your curves encapsulate a soul worth loving.
Your outward body is only a small part of you.
Perhaps, you can’t see the things I see.
The shimmer in your hair, the easy way it frames your face.
Your hands are strong, creased, warm.
Your middle is your middle.
It doesn’t need refining.
It isn’t too big or too small, it is just you.
Please love yourself, your shape, your unique and simple beauty.
Tell yourself that you are beautiful.
Repeat it everyday.
You’re captivating. Amazing.
I wish you could see yourself, with love, with compassion, with acceptance.