Kelly from Sublurban Mama.
Kelly from Sublurban Mama, who?
Kelly from Sublurban Mama who is GETTING! TRAINED! BY! KEMPER! ONCE! A! MONTH!
That's right, everyone can breathe a bit easier knowing I am not going to fall into a vat of melted chocolate and eat my way out of last week's depression over Kemper's departure. I know I sure can. I can not describe how much lighter life got when he
It's a good thing I was prepared, because Kevin decided not to teach Core Blast and instead settled on a class called Let's Do Squats Until We Puke, and Then We'll Do Some Lunges; And Just When You Think You Are Going To Physically Keel Over, We'll Do Jump Squats and Get Out the Medicine Balls and BOSU For Extra Fun. (I think the class schedule still said "Core Blast" because that other title wouldn't fit in the slot.) It's been a long time since I took a break during an athletic drill and stared at the instructor incredulously. But Kevin was on the receiving end of at least one such look.
After class I went to find Sarah. She was on the lat pull down. We agreed to meet up after my weigh-in. When I saw Kemper at the scale I actually skipped over because I was so freaking relieved. I told him I was glad Plan A to get him to train me was so effective (Plan A = beg), because I did not have a whole lot of faith in Plan B. (Plan B = finding out if Kemper had a brother (he totally does) and offering to marry him because I've seen what Kemper has done for his sister and girlfriend (both figure competitors) and if I were family he would be obligated to train me.)(Tricky parts of that plan include: my husband and kids (although polygamy is totally in the Bible, and I have enough Sister Wives to argue my way around that, and convincing a twenty-something single guy that he should totally settle down with a married mother of four in the interest of personal health. Specifically, her personal health.)
My weigh-in was a'ight. If I needed convincing that stress plays a negative role in weight loss I have a week of proof under my belt. Not only did I face the fear of being on my own this week, there were two other big things going on. One was throwing Lauren a baby shower on Saturday. (Honestly, not terribly crazy. It was just a lot more to do than usual.) The other major stress factor is our Other House.
(*minor tangent* Remember our old house? The house that sat behind the Meth House? Five years ago when the housing market tanked, we needed to sell it because we were moving. We got an offer on it right away, but because everyone and their brother were taking advantage of the FHA loans, the government had to come out and assess our home value in order to approve the loan. They assessed our house $40K below asking price because there were 5 foreclosures on our block we were competing against. (All priced $80-90K below our house.)(And? We still got an offer. BAM) We decided not to sell at such a loss and rent it instead.
HO. LEE. COW, Y'all. The house is trashed.
It's so trashed we have a contractor coming to give us quotes tonight. (It's mostly a ton of cosmetic stuff - like doors and appliances that need to be replaced. And a lot of patching in the walls. And repainting the entire home. And the little surprise of seeing the sub-floor exposed in the bathroom. And the freaking mountain of garbage by the curb. And the fire they started in our wheelbarrow. Duuuude. We did not need this right now. But, whatever, life, right? *end tangent*)
So at my weigh-in I lost .7 of a pound. I also lost 2% body fat, taking my body fat from 37.1% at the start of the challenge, to 27.2% as of last night. If you can math, yep, that's one tenth shy of a TEN PERCENT loss of body fat. (Kemper was all, "If you stayed 154.3 and your body fat kept dropping I would be happy.)(I was all, "You are freaking crazy and a boy and I do *not* want to stay 154.
|Also on the agenda? Selfies. I'm pretty sure our internal|
monologues included: Me = "Dude, how unfair that he has better
hair than me." and him = "Yep, it smells like Kelly just totally
enjoyed Core Blast."
After thoroughly convincing me he does not see me as 34 years old - he sees me as closer to 64 years old since I don't text - we parted ways. Things only got weird that last minute and a half because I could feel myself starting to get teary because I do not do well with change and I just didn't want to leave. But just when you need him, Eminem will sing in your head and you will hear the opening strands of Mockingbird and Marshall will (personally) tell you, "Straighten up little soldier. Stiffen up that upper lip," and you totally will because you are a SWOLDIER. (One of my new favorite words ever.) Besides, I'll see Kemper next month when he destroys me with a workout and it will all be okay.
|Me not smelling like Core Blast.|
We clean up occasionally.
Tomorrow I'll give you the recap of Lauren's big day. See you on the flip side.