I was an anesthesiologist of sorts. Since the shelter-in-place and subsequent boredom I began dulling my pain (or attempting to anyway). My drug of choice? Food.
Now at my highest weight ever, it was no longer just emotional pain, but physical. Everything hurt. My lower back. My knees. My ankles. It’s one thing to have to angle your selfies a little higher (Jedi slimming mind trick). It’s another not to even want to take them anymore. I felt like somebody else. I literally caught my reflection in the car window and didn’t recognize myself. I’d “fish” my clothes on with my feet to ease the bending and pull them up and around foreign, darkened areas (poor circulation). Popping my waist beads was no longer a concern as they are hiding safely under my belly. And while I had new dents in my body, my thighs reached out and touched. I tearfully Googled and discovered I had the lowercase c word, chafing. I heard a strange noise when I was walking–it was me, breathing. I had no energy to do housework or yard work. I feared the cashier at Culver’s, my former math student, calculated how many times she saw me. If you are what you eat I was transgender, somewhere between Burger King and Dairy Queen. Attempts at sleep were an Olympic sport. I had to kick/pump my leg to get out of bed. I was swimming in my own sweat at night. And yet I would lay thinking about what I was going to eat for breakfast the next morning. I felt little fireworks in my heart.
I was fat.
And so on a Tuesday evening I checked myself in to where anyone who is fat should–X Fat Azz Cycling & Fitness Studio. Pounds weren’t lost on me the minute I mounted, but neither was the fact that Reasons by Earth, Wind & Fire was the first song playing. The reeeason? The reason that I was here? Why to look fabulous of course. I would soon learn that this falls short (pun intended) of the real importance of fitness. Oddly enough the class was led by a sister named Toi who wasn’t to be played with. She was firm in her instructions, but fun. Between her, the hype man’s infectious energy and smile, and the variety of good music played it really was a true party. That is until the beat dropped, well actually I did–right on my fat…
I made it all the way through the warm up, the stand ups and sit downs (well some), the side to sides, the turns of the resistance knob…just for my legs to give out upon dismounting. It was the weirdest feeling. You know how people say their legs “felt like jelly?” Well call me Smuckers. The soreness (which I’m sure is normal) persisted over the next couple of days, but so did the light-headedness which is not. A visit to the doctor revealed another first for me other than cycling, high blood pressure. And just like that I broke up with Mr. Culver’s and told Stella Rose we can’t be friends. I won’t lie to myself and say I’ll never have ice cream or a glass of wine again, but I also have to tell myself the truth about my feelings. There is a difference between boredom and hunger pains…and pizza is not a prescription.
I’ve since traded in my doctor’s scrubs for workout clothes. I’m choosing to deal, not dull my pain with morning walks and healthier food choices. The pounds will come off, but for right now my heart…is lighter.
“A joyful heart is good medicine…”
Proverbs 17:22
For more information on cycling classes, please visit:
https://www.xfatazz.com
