The Biggest Loser: Wife Edition

As a member of America's finest branch of the military--the Navy--David is required to attend physical training twice a week in order to pass his physical fitness test twice a year. Although he tries his best to get out of it whenever possible, David normally attends PT every Monday and Wednesday after work and always comes home tried, sweaty, and spotted with Hawaiian red dirt. Normally, I send him off to the shower as soon as he arrives home in such a state, but after watching the fourth season of The Biggest Loser and getting into the current season, I've been feeling compelled to get more active and stay in better shape. Plus my doctor told me on multiple occasions that birthing babies is a whole lot easier if you have strong stomach muscles so I'd like to work on that. So last week, after David came home from PT, I had him lead me in a mini-PT and let me just say that 1) I am very sore; 2) I am not cut out for the military; and 3) I think David is trying to kill me.

It's not like we did much. We went on a short run (but I've never been much of a runner so I find even short distances painful) and then David made me do sit-ups, push-ups (girly ones at that), lunges and other equally difficult and painful exercises that caused many sore muscles and intense hatred for David's encouraging words like "You can do it!" and "I'm not even working you that hard!" Hopefully, as we continue wife PT, I'll get stronger and in better shape because apparently, I've really let myself go.

In high school and all growing up, I was really active. Like incredibly active. I played soccer, did track and field, attempted to dive, joined the color guard (which despite all appearances is actually quite physically demanding), and spent a lot of time on the go. I never really paid attention to my weight (I can't even tell you how much I weighed in high school) or what I ate, but staying so active allowed me to eat whatever I wanted and not really worry about it. By my senior year, I had slowed down in my activity level, but not in my eating, and I never considered the need to find other activities to keep me in shape. While at BYU, I became very body conscious, for the first time. I made feeble attempts at running, getting active, and playing sports but it was always intermittent and I definitely gained weight. By the time I moved to Monterey to live with my sister (who finds running SO MUCH FUN!!!!), I had embraced my laziness and the extra pounds. I wasn't fat by any standards and I figured getting in shape wouldn't be that hard.

Then I moved to DC. I didn't have a car and I relied on public transportation and my own two feet to get me around. I walked everywhere. DC is a very walkable city, which I love. Plus, I could work out in GW's gym for free and, since they had nice facilities, I started to go to the gym at least once a week. So in between walking miles and miles every day and going to the gym to do an easy workout that generally consisted for 30 minutes on the elliptical machine and 30 minutes of weight lifting and muscle toning, I dropped about 20 pounds in the space of 4 months. And I didn't even notice until I came home for Christmas and everyone started telling me I looked skinnier.

So when I got married, I once again forgot that in order to stay the same size and to fit into all the new clothes I had bought, I'd have to eat better and stay active. And that sort of didn't happen. (I blame David. He never eats enough of the cookies, cakes, and brownies I bake. Loser.) Anyway, after two days of military training, I've also come to realize that even losing weight didn't mean that I was in better shape. I did very easy workouts in DC and in 30 minutes, David manage to beat me down into a tired and sweaty mess. So yes, I am a whimp.

My goal is to fit in my wedding dress for as long as possible. My mom used to put her wedding dress on every year on my parent's anniversary and for years, even after a few children, she still fit into it. (My mother was 105 pounds when she got married.) And since I'm absolutely in love with my wedding dress, I hope that I can stay fit enough that I'll be able to wear my dress when I'm 35. Here's to hoping that in a few months, I'll be back in shape, can run at least a mile without wanted to faint, and can bust out the non-girly push-ups without my arms quivering in shame.