Ten-Week Testing

Well, friends, my first ten weeks with Farrell's is finito.  But, my lifestyle change is just getting started.

Beaverdale Farrell's: 5 a.m.

Overall, I am quite pleased with my results.  Here are the numbers for the entire ten weeks:

• Weight: lost 13 pounds
• Body fat: lost 2.6 percent (although I strongly disagree with the method of measurement for this one)
• Chest: lost 2.75 inches
• Waist: lost 5.75 inches
• Arm: lost 0.5 inches (and the muscle definition is awesome)
• Thigh: lost 1.75 inches
• Hips: lost 3.5 inches

I lost a total of 14.25 inches.  Unfortunately, only 2.75 of those were in the last five weeks.

Let me repeat: I am overall happy with the results.

But, I'm not going to lie: I was quite bummed at first.  I mean, how did I lose eleven-and-a-half inches the first five weeks and then not even three the last five weeks, especially when I was doing more than what was "required" of me?  I was doing everything absolutely perfectly, not cheating at all on my nutrition plan, and adding running to the mix.  What the heck else could I have done?!

So yes, I was initially disappointed.  However, a few things happened that altered my perspective.

Source

First, after my testing was done (more on that in a second), I was visibly upset, and my coach could see that.  Later in the day, he texted me to ask how I was doing.  When I said that I was fine and returned the question to him, he said that he was bummed because he knows how hard I tried and how disappointed I was.  He then told me that I was his mission for the year-long challenge and that I have come a long way and look pretty darn good.

Me and my coaches

Second, we received our before/after photos last night.  (I was really, really hesitant on showing you these.  I mean, I am not at all happy with my after photo.  In fact, several of us were talking about how we should really consider our after photo our beginning photo, as we are seriously considering this a lifestyle change, not just a ten-week experiment.)

Clearly I won the how-much-body-oil-can-one-girl-use contest. 

But I digress.

After sharing photos around the table, one of my teammates said, "You know, I would love to have my after photo look like your before photo.  And I would die to look like your after photo.  You look great."  That really put my glumness in perspective and made me appreciate what a change I made in my own body.

Me and The Boy

Finally, I talked to the Nutrition God (aka my brother) today about how to adjust my macros to take into account my extra workouts.  (One thing my coach and I worried about was that I wasn't getting enough calories -- specifically carbs and proteins -- to make up for the running that I was doing, especially since Farrell's only takes into consideration their workouts when assessing the amount of food we should be eating.)  When I told him how bummed I was about the lack of progress the second five weeks, he said that that was exactly how it should have been: I no longer have as much to lose as I did the first five weeks.  He then equated it to The Biggest Loser: the contestants lose 12 pounds a week because they weigh 400 pounds.  I cannot lose 12 pounds a week, nor can I expect to lose a bazillion inches in five weeks.  He said as long as I continue doing what I'm doing -- eating healthfully and conscientiously and working out like a madwoman -- I will continue seeing results, albeit not as quickly as I did initially.

He then warned me to not get discouraged about these lack of results because then I will want to quit, and that is not okay.

Lindsay and I being goofballs.

So, there you have it: my ten-week results.

As I have said repeatedly, though, this is not just a temporary thing.  Rather, it is a lifestyle change.  In order to ensure it is a forever thing, I emptied my bank account into the Farrell's cash register and signed up for a year of kickboxing, resistance training, and nutrition guidance.  And, I was asked to become a coach.

Starting June 8th, I will be helping a group of athletes who are brand new to the Extreme Body Shaping program.  And I couldn't be more excited.

Stay tuned for a Dam to Dam recap tomorrow!

Peace out, yo.  :)

You Are Beautiful

Let's talk self-esteem and body image today, shall we?

Sorry for the vulgarity (not really)
And sorry for the lack of source citation -- I pulled this off of a friend's Facebook page.

I've been thinking a lot about this lately for a couple of reasons.  First, this is something that I have thought about pretty much every day since all of the boys liked my best friend in third grade and not me.  And second, Farrell's 10-week testing is coming up this week, and if I win the grand prize, my before and after photos will be plastered in the gym and online and, quite possibly, in the store-front window.

Obviously I'm not too excited that my before picture will be broadcast for everyone to see, but I'm not yet fully satisfied with what my "after" photo will look like.  I mean, I still have a lot of work to do!

(Side note: I'm obviously going to post my before/after photos here, which I totally understand is public territory.  The gym, however, is located in the neighborhood in which I teach, and y'all, 15-year-olds can be mean!)

Also, while I lost eight pounds and over 11 inches in the first five weeks of Farrell's, I don't feel like I've made drastic improvements these past five weeks.  I have felt especially icky the last few days, which is weird because I've been doing everything right -- and more.

See why we're talking about self-esteem and body image today?  Clearly, despite all of the work I've been doing, I still have some issues.

As I'm brainstorming the content of this post, I am quickly realizing that it could be pages upon pages upon pages long.  I mean, I could talk about the recent controversy with Abercrombie & Fitch CEO Mike Jeffries, I could talk about the blogger who deemed the NBA cheerleader too chunky to cheer, I could talk about the incessant chatter about women's weights during the 2012 Olympics, I could talk about the fat-shaming that is plaguing our nation, or I could talk about the fat talk that occurs far too often.

And obviously, I could go on and on and on and on and on.

But I'm not going to talk about those things.  Instead, I'm going to talk about my favorite topic: me.  :)

I have never been a stick-thin girl; I've always been athletically-built, and even when I'm not in the tippest-toppest shape, it doesn't take too long for me to start toning up and developing those hidden muscles.  While I've had a fairly flat stomach for most of my life (until I hit 29, um what?!), but my thighs have always been a lot sturdier than I would like.

And, I feel like I weigh way more than I should, I feel like I'm a way bigger pant-size than I should be, and I feel like I look way larger than I actually (probably) do.

But I have felt that way my whole life.  I felt that way when I weighed 150 pounds, and I felt that same way when I weighed 190 pounds.  That is just the way my brain has been programmed by Vogue, Victoria's Secret, and Gossip Girl.

Something that The Boy said the other night has really stuck with me.  Essentially, he told me that I was so super sexy and that he thought I was just so darn beautiful.  (Aw, so sweet.  I'm a lucky girl, I know.)  But then he said, "I just wish you would see it, too.  I just wish you would believe me."

Don't get me wrong: I am not constantly self-deprecating.  I know that I am getting fitter by the day, and I know my tummy, arms, and legs are getting pretty darn toned.  (And I know that The Boy would love me regardless of what I looked like.)  And here's the deal: I do believe him.  I do believe that he thinks I'm sexy and beautiful, and at times even I think I'm not too shabby.  Apparently, though, I still exude the lack of confidence that has followed me since, oh, forever.

I guess some things just take time to change.  I'm trying.

I do need to note, however: I'm not working out like a crazy woman and eating über-healthfully because I want to be a size zero.  (That's never going to happen, nor would I want it to.  I like my curves!)  In fact, I could not care less if I stay the exact same size I am now forever, as long as I get more toned (which, I guess, would make me go down a size or two).  Rather, I am exercising and eating well because it makes me feel good.  I like being able to see my muscle definition.  I like feeling sore after a long run.  I like the rush of endorphins while I'm kickboxing.

I am being mindful of my fitness and my nutrition because that is who I am.  If I don't workout and don't eat well, I am not the Emily that everyone knows and loves.  It's not okay.

In fact, while The Boy is supportive of Farrell's and doesn't mind eating the healthy food that I cook, he says that the only reason he likes me doing the program is because he notices how different I am, how happy I am.

I apologize for the completely discombobulated post.  I feel like it made no sense and didn't really get anywhere, but here's the (lost in the post) moral of the story: let's figure out a way to get our society to stop caring so darn much about the number on the scale, the number on the dress, and to start caring more about people.

Have a very Happy Hump Day, and just remember:

Source

Peace out, yo.

What are your tips to a positive self-image?

Five-Week Testing

Believe it or not, but I have been on this crazy healthy-living journey for five weeks now.  After five weeks of perfect attendance at Farrell's (three days per week kickboxing and three days per week strength-training) and five weeks of nearly-perfect nutrition, I am proud to say that I am kicking major butt.

Remember how I broke up with the scale?  How I haven't stepped on the scale for the last five weeks?

Well, that all changed yesterday.

Before we get to that magic number, let's talk about inch-loss.  At Farrell's, they measure inches in five areas of the body: chest, waist, arm, thigh, and hips.  In total, I lost 11.5 inches.

Yes, let that sink in: eleven point five inches.

I lost 2.25 inches in my chest.  This is unbelievable to me, as my boobs are still spilling over my bra.

I lost 5.25 inches in my waist.  Again, this doesn't seem to make sense because I don't feel like my pants are any more comfortable, but I guess the measuring tape doesn't lie, huh?

I lost 0.5 inches in my arm.  I was one of the only people to lose inches in this area, as our strength-training really builds up muscle, which in turn increases the measurement of the arm.  I have a lot of fat yet to lose in this area, but as soon as that's gone, I look forward to this number increasing as I get buffer and buffer.

I lost 0.25 inches in my thigh.  Again, this number generally goes up rather than down, as our legs are bulking up like crazy.  I can feel the muscle here, so I'm okay with a small number of inches lost.

I lost 3.5 inches in my hips.  This is the area where I feel I need to lose the most inches, so I'm pretty pumped that the number is already that big.  I look forward to it decreasing a whole bunch more in the next five weeks.

My body fat percentage only decreased by 1.2 points, but I really don't think the method they use to measure this is accurate.  So, oh well.

Regarding fitness testing, I pretty much rocked it: my push-ups increased by 26, my sit-ups increased by 11, and my mile time decreased by ten.

And now, folks, the moment you've all been waiting for:

I lost eight pounds in the last five weeks.  While eight pounds doesn't seem like a whole lot, I want you to consider the amount of muscle I've been building.  Eight pounds is a whole heck of a lot of weight when you consider how ripped I'm getting.

And while I don't feel like I look crazy-different, The Boy assures me that I do, and my besties are all quite complimentary, too.

FF and I were so excited about our testing results yesterday that we decided to partake in a little too much celebration.  Both The Boy and BFF called this the "anti-Emmy" day since it was everything I don't do on a normal day, and they were both proud of me for "letting go" and enjoying myself.

I'm proud of me, too, but there is no way another way-too-much-fun day can happen anytime in the near future.  I'm still recuperating!

But you know what?  Eleven point five inches was something totally worth celebrating.

Yay, me!

A Break-Up

Well, friends...

I'm currently going through a break-up.

No, no, no, not with The Boy!  He and I are as picture-perfect as usual.

No, I had a break-up with my scale.

I have always been a results-driven person: I strived for a 4.0 in high school (got it), I pushed for straight As in college (almost got it -- stupid women's studies course), I work my butt off and try my hardest to prove myself in my job, etc.

In addition, I have always been quite obsessive.  I review emails 18,000 times before I send them, just to make sure they're perfect and that nothing could be misunderstood.  I spend hours planning my meals to ensure that my proteins and carbs are as close to where they should be as possible.  I create detailed training calendars like it's my job.

For years after the lovely digital scale landed in my bathroom, I stepped on it every. single. morning.

And every. single. morning. that the number did not decrease, I got super discouraged.

I mean, I would be running 15, 18, 26.2 miles, I would be pumping major iron at CrossFit, I would be watching what I eat like a crazy woman, but the number on the scale either would not change or would, in fact, go up.

And that was, as you can imagine, so discouraging.

Eventually, I just thought, well, if I'm not losing weight doing everything I possibly can, then I might as well just eat whatever the heck I want.  And that, my friends, is where Flamin' Hot Cheetos, Sour Patch Kids, chimichangas, and cabernet enter the picture.

That's also where major weight-gain comes in to play.

Because of my results-driven and obsessive personality (lovely aspects that they are), I have realized that stepping on the scale every day is actually quite detrimental to my health and emotional well-being.

It turns out that I did, in fact, lose some weight over the course of several months -- approximately 12 pounds.  But when I stepped on the scale every single day, there would be fluctuation: I would gain a pound, lose a few ounces, gain another ounce, drop a pound, etc.

Like with most things in life, it was easier to focus on the negative (weight increasing) rather than the positive (weight decreasing).  So while I was losing weight overall and over time, my brain only registered the increases, thereby making me think that I was gaining weight.

I wasn't focusing on the long-term -- I was focusing on the right-now.

In order to not discourage myself, I decided that during the initial ten-week session at Farrell's, I would only weigh myself three times: at the very beginning, at the five-week testing, and at the very end.

Let me tell you: it has not been easy.  Every morning the scale taunts me, just begging me to step on and take a quick peek at the number below my feet.

And every morning I tell that scale no.

I know that I am working out like crazy, I know that I'm eating exactly what I am supposed to, so I can only assume that the number on the scale will drop like it is supposed to.  I just don't want to risk the discouragement of "How did I only lose two pounds?!" or "I'm up a half a pound today?!" before it is absolutely necessary.

And, I know that before that number drops, it may go up.  After all, I am building a heck of a lot of muscle.  I only want to weigh myself when I'm also taking into account measurements and body-fat percentage.

But most importantly, I need to remember this:

And that, my friends, is why the scale and I are DONE.

Question: How often do you weigh yourself?  What other factors do you take into consideration when discerning whether or not your current exercise and nutritional plan are working?