Taking Frank Sinatra's Advice

Yes there were times I'm sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew
But through it all when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out, I faced it all
And I stood tall and did it my way.

I'm on the final week of FXB and as I inch towards Saturday when I'll have my final results, the song that continues to play in my head is Frank Sinatra's My Way. While I'm definitely hoping for some respectable losses, I already feel like I've come out of this with more success than I had hoped. I won't know until Saturday if I reached the inches/weight loss goals, nor will I know how much I've improved on the strength and endurance tests, but I do know what I've accomplished emotionally and spiritually.

I can walk into a room now knowing that I'm my best self, confident and self assured. My improved posture isn't just the result of restistance training or namaste stretches. I hold my head up higher because I feel so damn good about myself. I'm healthier, leaner, happier and so much more excited about who I am.

I was in a rut. I see that now. I was so consumed with making sure the kids and my husband's needs were met; that everyone felt loved and secure in the relationship they have with me, that I forgot about the most important relationship that needed nurturing - the relationship with myself. I lived in workout pants and tee shirts with pancake syrup smudged on the back. My go-to hairstyle was a big, unruly ponytail on top of my head, a new pair of flipflops felt like a guilty pleasure purchase. I'd skip salon appointments and grocery shop after the kids went to bed. Carmex was my makeup ritual some mornings. Laundry was my excercise. I wore drawstring flannel pants to bed with oversized SOCKS! (My poor husband!)

I didn't set out to let myself go, but somewhere, along the way - I lost myself in the people I love so much. I haven't neglected them during this process. On the contrary, they've been grateful recipients of my newfound zest for life. I'm happier, I'm so enjoying the time I have with the kids and I don't immediately want to tear my hair out when things get crazy around here, a fairly frequent occurence with three small children! I paint my toenails every week, I wear shorts (IN A SIZE 6!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) with fitted tanks and yes, matching flipflops. I've purchased fun, flirty sundresses and tops. I kept my date with my stylist and I'm sporting a sexy, tossled head of hair. I splash some color on my face, spritz a bit of perfume behind my ear, even if my only outting is the market and a run to Target. It's none of your business what I'm wearing to bed these days, but it ain't flannel pants!!!!!!

I just feel......................................amazing. And I think when you truly feel that way, it shows.

I set out to be a success at Farrell's Extreme Bodyshaping. I made personal goals in the very beginning and so far, without knowing my final measurements, I've reached (and surpassed a couple) of those goals. I'm eating nutritious meals, I'm in complete control of what I'm putting in my body, I'm taking time out for me, I'm being as good to me as I am to those I love so much and I'm finally realizing that I deserve to have as good of a life as the people I work so hard for. Ol' Blue Eyes knew what he was doing when he decided to do it his way.

Let's hope the next song running through my head is Brick House. 'Cause that's how I feel!

Lucky Number Eight!

Eight weeks down! I can't believe I've been at this for two months. I remember the first week, thinking, "I can't wait for this to be over." And now that I only have two weeks left of the challenge, I find myself wishing for more weeks. I've loved the entire experience of Farrell's FXB - there's a comraderie and such a huge support system in play that nobody can really fail at this. Just when you don't think you can't do another push up or pound the bag with another right jab/cross combo, there's someone, whether it's a teammate, coach or an instructor, urging you to push past the pain and find a new level of personal accomplishment.

I'm thrilled with the inches I'm losing and the smaller size of shorts I'm wearing, but what I'm most proud of is how much stronger I am now. Hauling the laundry up from the laundry room would wind me, running around the track even once, nearly made me collapse and the thought of doing more than ten pushups was ludicrous.

Now I'm bounding up the stairs with two laundry baskets, running a mile at a respectable pace and if we do less than 50 pushups in a class, I feel cheated. Can I leap tall buildings in a single bound? Well, no - I'm not super human, but I'm a stronger human than I used to be and that, I'm proud of.

To steal a lyric from that all too famous female anthem of the 70's.........

I am woman, hear me roar.

...and for good measure, watch me do some pushups!!!!

Two weeks to go. I can't wait to see who I am!

Aint It Grand!

It's finally happened! I ran into someone I haven't seen since the beginning of the summer and she said, "Holy shit Michelle - you look great. Have you been working out?" I kinda wanted to burst a little bit. I mean, I know I'm working hard and surely those efforts are yielding results, but sometimes what we really need is a wee bit of affirmation from someone else, someone who hasn't seen us in a while.

I told her I was enrolled in the ten week challenge at Farrell's. I recognized the look on her face; I used to have it. Fear mixed with horror. I think she was slightly surprised I was still alive. Frankly, so am I. She asked me if it was as intense as she's heard and if I felt like dying on a daily basis. I told her it's pretty much as tough as she's heard and that my desire to lay down and die ended after about week two. She asked if it was worth it - a thousand times YES.

Speaking of a thousand, what many might not know is that at the end of the ten weeks, there's a male and female $1000 winner. The man and woman who has the most dramatic transformation wins a nifty little prize to pocket. I was recently asked if I'm gunning for the prize. Here's the thing - by about week #3, I completely forgot that there was such a prize. Would it be nice? Sure, I guess.

But I've won. I mean, the ten weeks aren't even over and I already know I've won. I feel incredible. I'm focused. I'm energized. I'm stronger. I'm happier. It's impossible to put a price tag on any of that.

I think that's what many of us realize during this journey. We are gaining back ourselves, or maybe for some, we're realizing who we are for the first time. We're already winners!

I'm just about finishing up week #7. I've made it to every class (this I'm immensely proud of) and I'm upping my game each week. If I think I can't, I push through. That's going to take me well beyond the gym. I'm pushing through life, it's not pushing me.

Would I like to win the money? Well, hell - who wouldn't? I know this - the local retailers would be thrilled because I'd hit the department stores and get this new body a wardrobe it deserves! It's just not a driving factor; it's not what motivate me.

I motivate me. And I'm worth a million bucks.

We all are!

Less of me is making room for MORE of me!

It's hard to explain how much I'm growing while at the same time, I'm literally getting smaller. I don't think I had any idea what kind of changes I would go through when I first enrolled in FXB. Obviously, my desire was to get back into last summer's wardrobe and maybe firm up my belly and finally shed some of my baby weight. Babies that I gave birth to 21, 8 and 6 years ago. It's a convenient enough excuse, and a valid one - for about a year. I even had a leg up, qualifying it with, "the twins really wrecked my body". Well, the twins are more than halfway to highschool, so the shelf life of that excuse has definitely expired.

So, I figured - sign up for an intense workout program that costs enough to make me slightly fiscally weary and lose some weight for the last weeks of beach and shorts season.

What never occured to me was that I probably needed to lose some additional weight that has nothing to do with the size of my jeans or the numbers on my scale. We haul around a lot of life, which makes it hard to actually live it when we're so busy balancing it (barely) above our heads.

I'm lighter now. Lighter in ways I didn't hope to be, or even think I ever could be. I worry less about the future and pay really close attention to the present. There's so much good going on in my life right here, right now. I'm living in the moments that life is giving me; letting the past go and the future surprise me.

My kids are these spectacular people I'm discovering. I mean, yes I've always known how amazing they are, but I worried about all four of them incessantly and allowed those worries to strain how I see them. I see all of them now - for who they've become and the potential they each have in them. I'm a mother of a 21 year old, a set of 8 year old twins and a six year old. I see all four of them and because of that, I thoroughly enjoy all four of them. I didn't always - because I carried who they were and who they weren't, on my shoulders and the weight of all of that took a bit of the joy of being their mother away. I've unburdened my shoulders and opened my heart further. I don't know who or what my kids will grow into someday, but I know that they've got a great shot at whatever they want because I'm their mother. My, how they love me.

I'm lighter.

I took my marriage too seriously. Sounds odd, doesn't it? I'm a daughter of a divorced couple, which created in me an unhealthy expectation within myself to be so superbly perfect at being a married couple, I felt letdown frequently. My husband didn't let me down - not really. He's pissed me off, he's hurt my feelings, he's left dirty socks on the family room floor and his cereal bowl on the counter. But he hasn't let me down. My marriage hasn't let me down. It's been hard, it's been boring at times, it's been tedious even. But it hasn't let me down. I let myself down, but really only because what I expected from myself was unrealistic. I can't be perfect and I don't want to be. Letting that ridiculous shit go has opened up to me a wonderful marriage - it's fun, it's sexy, it's romantic and it's real. Still hard at times and on a Friday night when the old man has fallen asleep a half hour into movie night on the couch, it can even be a little boring. But it's mine and I'm no longer letting it down. My, how he loves me.

I'm lighter.

My mom's dead. That's so hard to say even still; at times, it even a little unbelievable. She and I - incredibly close. Maybe too close, I don't know. I miss her and I need her. Her death followed a rather short, but painful battle with cancer. I don't remember who I was before Mom got sick. I certainly don't think I was anyone poised to care for her, to carry her, to bathe her, to feed her, to walk the last mile with her and to let her go. But there I was, adding to my shoulders the weight of my mom. Five years later, and I'm still carrying her. I have been making decisions, raising my kids, planning events - with her in mind, hoping to making her proud. She's been gone for half a decade and I'm still looking for her approval, something she never denied me during her living years. I just still want it. It was there, her last night - enough to last me a lifetime. My mom is dead, and while I won't ever hear her say, "you're such a good (mother/ daughter/wife/friend/person), Shell" or "the world is lucky to have you in it", I have to believe it's what she'd tell me if she were here. And while it's not really - for any of us, it has to be good enough. I'm done living my life in search of someone else's approval. I've always had it and it's time to let go. My mom is dead. My, how she loved me.

I'm lighter.

I'm still a work in progress, but slowly, I hope I become the person whom I can really, truly see and think, "I want to be like her when I grow up."

I don't know if it's exactly FXB that has inspired this kind of soul searching or provoked me to unload some of this excess emotional weight, but I really do think that it's given me such an awesome opportunity to not only transform my body, but to let loose life's baggage that has been weighing me down. I'm making friends, I'm learning new ways to fuel my body and clear my mind, I'm finding my own strength to reach out of my comfort zone and to feel free to be who I want to be. My, how I love me.

I'm happier and I'm healthier.

And after week #5 testing, I'm officially 11 pounds and 10 & 3/4 inches smaller!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bet your ass I'm lighter!

Celebrating the Fourth

Well, sure it's the July 4th weekend, but I'm celebrating something even bigger! I've completed four full weeks of FXB, not having missed a single day AND (this is big!) staying completely disciplined with my nutrition. Clearly, that's been the hardest part of this, even still. It's a bit jarring to me how easily and thoughtlessly I used to grab a handful of chips or a snack on a bowl of M&Ms. Now, I'm constantly putting careful thought into meal preparations and making sure I'm actually eating enough.

The nutritional plan FXB has taught me isn't about counting points, cutting out out all fat, eating a week's worth of cabbage soup (whoever came up with that recipe is a sadist) or mixing cayenne pepper and cinnamon in some tea concoction to cleanse my system. It's about learning that carbs can be good for you and that protein is what my body has been craving. I'm not starving myself on celery. I'm learning how to create healthy meals that don't taste like cardboard. It's liberating to find that I'm starting to enjoy eating healthily and that I find the challenge to learn new ways of cooking kind of fun.

Let's not get out of hand here - it is, afterall, July 4th weekend. Annual barbeques, coolers stocked with cold beer, blenders of margaritas, buffets lined with potato salad, brownies, chips, baked beans, burgers and hotdogs. Did I fill up my plate and enjoy a few cocktails? Absolutely. But, without guilt or regret, because I knew how easily I would be able to get back into my newer, healthy habits.

It's amazing what I've learned in such a short amount of time. Aside from learning new ways of eating and cooking, I've also learned that in making those choices, I'm not feeling deprived or starved. Rather, I've discovered that I've been depriving my body of feeling like this for too long. The easy grabs out of the cookie jar held me hostage to a sluggish body. I know I won't always go for the lean turkey burger over a loaded chili dog, but I know that I will give it careful thought and make a choice based on how it will make me feel. I'm confident that I will more often overwhelmingly go for the healthier options, so that chili dog will be an occasional treat and not the status quo of my dietary habits.

What a feeling - a little bit like Independence Day. Celebrating my own personal freedom.

Happy Fourth to ME!

Overcoming Fear of Commitment

So this morning I received an email letting me know that FXB was cancelled today due to a power outage. It's the last day of class for week three and I was so sore from yesterday's killer cardio class. Thunder was rolling and the rain was still falling. My room was dark and everyone, including my dogs were all still asleep. How tempting it was to crawl back into bed and wink out another hour of sleep.

I had a choice, one that would've been so easy to make a month ago. This morning, I made another choice. I got online to see what classes were offered at the Y and dragged my body to a muscle intensive workout. I ran into my fellow gym rat pals whom I haven't seen in a while since starting FXB and they were surprised to see me. When I explained where I've been and what I've been doing and why I was at the Y instead of Farrells, someone said, "Good for you. I would've taken the gift and gone back to bed." Midway through the class, I thought maybe I should've just stayed in bed. My legs were shaking and my arms protested - loudly! I'm glad I didn't.

It used to be that any excuse I could come up with to skip a workout was a viable one. I justified just about any reason to avoid the gym. This morning, a bonafide excuse was given to me and for the first time, I didn't use it. I am as committed to my overall fitness and health as I am to that of my family's.

After years of fearing that kind of commitment, I've finally found myself worthy of making lifetime promises to me! I didn't use the excuse to skip a morning's workout, I didn't use the excuse to skip the chance to take care of me.

In the words of the ever eloquent Beyonce', I liked it so much, I put a ring on it.

.....and I'll live happily ever after!

Perspective - a gift we give ourselves.

Well, week #2 is in the books. I made it - I haven't missed a single class yet and that's not always easy with three active children at home and a husband who's job is to serve and protect. I've missed a couple ball games, arranged for childcare, grocery shopped later at night and ran errands with three naughty children in tow. All so that I can carve out 60 precious minutes Monday through Saturday to make it to class. Initially, I wasn't about to waste the money we shelled out in order for me to sign up, and while that continues to be somewhat of a motivating factor, I find that something more vital and important inspires me to wrangle into a sports bra and humbly allow others watch me sweat and grimace through the pain . . . me! I want this for me; so much so that it's occurred to me that I haven't placed myself anywhere near the list of my priorities. Discovering self importance is just one of the things I'm learning about myself through this.

Perspective is another.

It's Father's Day weekend. How I would love to have Dad over for a bbq and a beer out in the backyard on a leisure Sunday afternoon. And I will next year, and hopefully many years to come. But this year, he's in Columbus, Ohio. He's washing dishes, catching up on laundry, mowing the lawn and anything else my brother needs him to do while he's sitting next to my sister-in-law's hospital bed as she recovers from another procedure cancer has forced her to endure. Yeah, cancer. Kee's 37 years old, never lit a cigarette in her life, doesn't abuse her body and honored our family by falling in love with my brother. She's a mother of a 6 and 9 year old and a stepmother to my gorgeous niece. And she's fighting for her life and for all of us who love her.

Think sit-ups suck? Those push-ups kicking your ass? Walking around the block too much for your legs? Chemotherapy's no bag of tricks, I bet. Radiation? It's not for wimps! Having hard time forcing vegetables in your diet? Imagine having a hard time keeping anything in your stomach. Need a nap after a vigorous workout? Keelee needs a nap after walking up the stairs.

I sound holier-than-thou, but that's not me. I'm the least sanctimonious person you'll meet. I know how hard it is to push my body to its limits and work past the pain. But I recognize that it's on a much smaller level than what Keelee and all the other cancer warriors out there are going through and what they're asking their bodies to endure so they can live. Today's lower body was rough for me - I moved up in bands and gave it all that I could. I wanted to quit. I wanted to stop. I wanted to die.

Keelee doesn't. And the millions that are fighting her same fight don't either.

So, I figure I can stand the pain, the sore muscles and the tired body. My sister-in-law can stand so much more. Does so much more. Is so much more.

Here's the thing - we get this ride once and we only get one body to do it in. Enjoy the ride, take care of your body and when you think you can't push it to do one more step, force it into one more push-up or endure one more sit-up...think of those who demand so much more of their bodies so that they get to take as many steps in this world as possible.

Wrap your arms around those you love this weekend, unabashedly and without reserve.

....and make sure the first person you hold is yourself!