Drill Sergeant Jill

Last month, I joined a health club. This particular club is a wonderful place that I love. It is a women-only place, small but beautifully painted and clean. I have met so many nice women there. Everyone is friendly and happy and there to seriously work out at our own pace.

I had completed a month on a beginning program of lifting weights, cardio and toning exercises. At this particular club, you are monitored quite often. There are usually two or three trainers on the floor at all times checking your progress and form. At the end of four weeks on a program, your progress is checked, and you are taught a new program for the next month. I arrived bright and early last Thursday to go through my new program. I wasn't aware that my trainer would be Drill Sergeant Jill.

No one really calls her "Drill Sergeant". But she sure does resemble one. Jill is a no-nonsense kind of gal. I have never seen her smile. She is cordial, but she stops just short of pleasant. She will ask you a question, and when you give her the answer, she sets her jaw, narrows her eyes and changes the subject leaving you to believe that the question itself was rhetorical, and she really didn't want you to answer it at all.

So, last Thursday I arrived ready for a new program. I tried my best to follow all instructions, tried to memorize where to put my hands and the proper form for each machine. The program ends with floor work. I made the mistake of complaining about a particular exercise involving a large inflated ball. Jill walked around to stand directly in front of me. Her dark brown eyes looked like little bits of flint were shooting off of them.

"You don't like the exercises on the ball?" she asked.

"Yeah, is there an alternate because I'm going to have a hard time with it." I said and smiled.

"You just bought yourself another exercise on the ball." Jill said matter-of-factly.

There was an awkward minute where I was thinking "Did she really just say that?" She walked around me and started to demonstrate another exercise on the ball that the Flying Wallendas at the height of their career would have had a hard time doing. I started biting the skin on the inside of my lower lip. I thought about the Maya Angelou quote, "The first time someone shows you who they are, believe them."

"Is there a problem?" Jill asked. I shut up and kept my poker face on because I have met my match in this woman. She's tiny but in phenomenal shape, and she could kick my a$$. So, I said nothing more and did the exercises as instructed.

Two days later, I returned to work out and was going through my program. There was a different trainer there who is a very sweet and nice person. It crossed my mind to ask about alternative exercises to the ball, but I decided to stick it out. When I was on my second set of exercises, Jill arrived at the gym. She and the other trainer came over to where I was exercising. Jill asked the other trainer, "So, has she asked for different exercises because these are too hard?" Jill was impressed when the other trainer confirmed that I had not complained at all. Jill laughed because she had left a big post-it note for the other trainer warning her that my program was not to be changed. Guess I showed her that I'm not the princess she thought I was.

Jill was a little nicer to me the last time I was there. She correct my form on a machine. I know she's always watching - even when she isn't there. Toward the end of my workout, I saw her take issue with another woman who was there and was talking on her cell phone as she was exercising. Jill asked the woman, "What motivates you? You need to want to be here." And then Jill took her into the office for what I can only assume was a real "Come to Jesus" meeting about her attitude.

And I thought about those words "what motivates you?" I am surrounded by motivation at that gym. I see women of every shape and size working hard. I see the very fit women that I always envied because they make looking good appear to be effortless. And I see them working out with personal trainers at 6:30 am. Turns out they work hard to look like they do. I see tiny little old ladies who have never lifted a weight in their lives, and they are working hard to get back some flexibility. I see a couple young teen girls who are working to be better at competitive swimming or gymnastics. Each and every woman is an inspiration.

So, this video is for all the ladies. I saw it when I was on the treadmill at the gym, and it inspired me to run faster - who wouldn't want to run toward the guys from Duran Duran? They still look and sound great after all these years. Enjoy.

Let it Be

When I find myself in times of trouble, the Beatles come to me. Speaking words of wisdom - "Let it be."

What a horrible few weeks it has been. Such hatred in Wisconsin right now. Hatred in the comments made on online news articles. Hatred on the television. Hatred in the streets of my city.

And now the images from Japan. My heart feels like lead.

This morning, I volunteered as a reading tutor at my kids' school. My two little students are making such wonderful progress. They are so smart. My first little girl wanted to help me make the word flash cards, so I let her. She told me she wanted to be a teacher one day. My second little girl was talking about how she got a puppy over spring break. I asked her if she wanted to be a veterinarian when she grows up, and she smiled and tipped her head to the side and said, "I want to be a teacher . . . or a helper, just like you." I smiled and got her busy reading aloud to me, and then I put my hand to my face so she couldn't see me crying silent tears.

God bless these little ones on their way. How could I ever keep hatred in my heart when I look at their hopeful faces.

"And when the night is cloudy, there is still a light that shines on me. Shine until tomorrow. Let it be."

Hallelujah

This is a good day to say a prayer if that is something your tradition and beliefs deem suitable.

They Shoot Fat Women, Don't They?

I've become fat. I never used to be fat, but even when I wasn't fat, I thought I was fat, so I never enjoyed being thin. This struggle goes back as far as I can remember - probably first grade or so. I was in fifth grade when my teacher asked me to deliver something to a teacher in the upper grade hallway. I was a bit chunky in those days, and I wore smock tops which were a staple in the '70s. An obnoxious boy a few years older got in my face and said, "What are you doing here fatty?" I pretended that I didn't see him and went back to my classroom. I sat at my desk trying to concentrate on my phonics assignment and trying to hold back hot, stinging tears.

That summer, I went on an 800 calorie a day diet using these little calorie counters that were sold in the supermarket check out lanes. I lost 15 pounds that summer. A little weight crept back on the next two years, and then I lost another 10 pounds the summer between seventh and eighth grade. I was neither fat nor thin during my high school years. I do remember buying diet pills and using them to keep from getting hungry in high school.

Being thin was always a struggle for me. I weighed myself every day. I would join health clubs from time to time and get in shape. I would join weight loss programs and lose quite a bit of weight. After I got married and moved away from my friends and a job I loved, I started to put on a bit of weight. Two pregnancies, an underactive thyroid and a miserable job later, I found myself overweight.

It is amazing how I can live in total denial. I do not have a full-length mirror in this house. I did not weigh myself in over three years. A few years ago, my daughter had a little friend whose father was very rude to me. He would shoot me dirty looks and be very curt despite my attempt at friendly conversation. Kate picked up on it, and I just offhandedly mentioned that I thought he probably didn't like me very much. She asked if that bothered me, and I said no because I thought he was just a person who wasn't very happy. About a month later, Kate stayed over at that friend's house, and when she came home, she said, "Mom, Anna's father said something very nice about you. And YOU thought he didn't like you." I asked what he had said, and she said, "He said you look like you had been very pretty at one time." I almost fell over. It didn't surprise me. I let on to Kate like it was a compliment because, well, from this guy it was probably the closest thing to a compliment that I was ever going to get. Kate never stayed at their house again. I ignore him when I see him which isn't often thank goodness.

A couple of weeks ago, my hair stylist asked to cut my hair shorter because, "It will make you look so much younger." I got home and asked my husband how he liked it and that my stylist said it made me look younger. He looked at me and said, "Well, it's a good cut, but I wouldn't say it makes you look younger." The final straw was when I found my second grade school photo and showed it to a friend. My friend mentioned how much Kate and I look alike. Kate, bless her, said, "I don't want to look like you." I know she didn't mean it the way it sounded. She apologized, and, of course, I would never hold anything against my ten-year-old daughter like that. But, it spurred something inside me.

So, last week, I joined a wonderful women-only health club. I am lifting weights, doing lots of cardio, and I feel fantastic. I've lost four pounds in the first week. And I'm not really trying, just exercising and eating healthier.

And I would like to take this opportunity to tell the boy from grade school, the manufacturers of diet pills, and my daughter's friend's a**hole father to kiss my fat a**.

This little fat girl has a big fat attitude. And I'm pretty freaking perfect just the way I am. And I'm getting better every day.

Check it out - I'm thinner than the apple! Yea me!

We Are Wisconsin

I am at Ground Zero here in Wisconsin. Billions of dollars were given to corporations, and now my children's education is on the line. Watch carefully. It could happen where you live.

The Healing Power of Knitting

I'm back after five days of having a broken keyboard. One of my darling children spilled something on it, and I was unable to space, use parentheses or the letter "p". Needless to say, my emails during that five days read like haikus since I had to put a period between each word because I couldn't space. Strange days indeed.

I ran across this video by American Idol runner-up Crystal Bowersox. I have always been a fan of hers, and now that I saw her video for "Farmer's Daughter", well, she is a woman after my own heart. I had no idea she was a knitter.

The video is very emotional. It is heartbreaking how she "unravels" herself from her mother throughout the song. But the ending is beautiful. She has knit together her own life as a very caring mother.

Knitting definitely is a form of meditation for me. If you've never tried it, you should.

Enjoy the video.

Linky Loos

This is the funniest thing I've read in a long time.

And this must've been written about me.

Keep warm wherever you are!