White Socks and Mirrors

Weight: Less than the last blog, not sure how much.
Mood: Mellow
Listening To: Gordon Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares on BBC

I'm not sure if I had mentioned it before, but I used to be a dancer. I used to be an amazing dancer, to be exact. So good that I once broke my toe in an audition, and I still got the part. Although, my toe still gives me trouble to this day. When I moved to Los Angeles, my studies got focused on academics and I never did find a studio in the area. 12 years later, I finally found a studio, where I was standing, staring at myself in the mirror and all I could see were my white socks.

So on this weight loss adventure, I've been trying to find alternatives to the gym that I absolutely loathe. I've been stuck on this plateau for awhile now, and decided I would load up on a variety of cardio classes. I still have my trainer, which is now the only reason I even step into a gym now-a-days, I've joined a boot camp that meets up once a week and I found a dance studio for adults.

The first day at the studio, I was nervous. I wore something that was a shadow of the dance pants and little sexy tops I used to wear. In fact, it came no where near that. Short yoga pants and a t-shirt. Yup, that'll do it. And you know what, I don't have dance shoes any more. I wonder what this is going to be like with no dance shoes. The website said we can do bare feet, right? Well, that's what I remember. Ugh, I can hear the base pumping from the class before mine. Strange how it's calling to me. I wonder if I will be any good any more. I have to still have some talent, right? Well, here goes nothin'.

As I entered into the studio, I noticed something strange. A black, rubber like dance floor. Huh. Last I remember dance floors were polished wood. I must be seriously out of the loop on new dance methods. I put my things into a cubby and said hi to the teacher that little did I know was going to hand me my ass on a black rubber floor. She was this tiny little Russian girl with a big smile. She welcomed me to class and I warned her it had been 12 years since my last class. She said not to worry - I'll pick it right back up. Suuuuuuurrrre.

The warm ups were a clear demonstration on how incredibly inflexible I have become, and how many of the moves I have seriously forgotten about. As I stood there, trying to keep up, I looked at myself in the mirror and have come to realize that my mirror at home lies to me. When I look at myself in the mirror at home and ask it "Mirror, mirror on the wall, is my ass any smaller than it was before?" It responds with a kind "Your waist is a little thinner, and look at your ass - nice and round. Men love that." However, the mirror at the dance studio - it was not as kind. It said, no YELLED, "You are no where near as skinny as you used to be. In fact, I think you're the biggest girl in the class, and that bright pink shirt you're wearing doesn't help. Neither do those capri yoga pants. Just makes your calves look huge. You see the girls over there? That would be a goal, wouldn't it? You see the skinny little Russian girl teaching the class? Remember being that size? Don't you miss it? Stop looking at her, you're just killing your self esteem. Look at the girls over there. Start with that."

I attempted to keep up with the dance routine she taught, which sealed the deal of this little Russian girl handing me my ass. There were times I just had to laugh at myself. As I walked out of there, realizing that I have lost most of my skill, I also realized that I had an amazing cardio workout - so hell yes, I would be returning.

The time for the next class came around, and before I walked out of the house for class, I remembered the conversation I had with the mirror in the studio. Today, I was going to win that conversation. That mirror was going to tell me I look good! So I threw on my new UCLA yoga pants - not capri's. They were a sexy Vicky's Secret cut with a sparkly Bruin Bear in just the right spot. Then a black wife beater to compliment the dark grey and blue band in the pants. Yeah, I was ready to go! And this time, I was wearing socks! Having bare feet on that dance floor just about killed me. So, sexy outfit on and something on my feet - here I come you stupid mirror! Watch out!

I walked into that dance studio and was greeted by the instructor. I decided to stand in the back of the studio - a new move on my part. I was no one to watch for what to do next at this point and I needed someone to watch when this little Russian girl walked around class to check on all of us. I stood there, waiting for class to begin, and I looked in the mirror, afraid of the conversation I was about to have with that mirror. "Not too bad." it said to me. "You still need to concentrate on the weight loss, I can't lie, but today, the clothes are making the difference. You've definitely lost some weight here, and there. But I think you need to keep coming back. There is one thing, though . . . . " While I looked myself up and down in the mirror and loved how I was rockin the outfit, the only thing that really stood out were the bright, white socks I was rockin on my feet. Damn it!

I got my ass handed to me again that day, and loved every minute of it, even if I was wearing bright white socks. As I walked out of the studio, I wondered if I would be able to find some black socks over the weekend.

Protien Shakes and Do-Overs

Weight: 22.4 lbs lighter
Mood: Pretty good!
Listening To: Clumsy by Fergie



Remember when you were a kid and during any game you could call "Do over!" whenever you didn't like the outcome and everyone would repeat the play? What was amazing about the do-over, what we never really realized, is that no one ever challenged it. It was a widely-accepted rule among all of us, and at some point during our process of growing up, the do-over became invalid. During the past few months, I have been trying to call "Do over!" on this whole weight loss thing. As you can see in the dates between entries, I haven't really lost that much weight and it's taken me awhile to figure out why.



As much as I appreciated Weight Watchers for the first 20 pounds, the meetings were no longer cathartic. It was just a bunch of old ladies sitting around trying to figure out new ways to fit as much food as possible into the points they had been allotted. With that, I stepped out of my last meeting, knowing I would not be returning. It took me two months to accept that I had let go, and cancel my membership.



Then I realized something about myself, I need a gimmick. God has blessed me with a very short attention span, one that gets bored incredibly easy. I remembered some of my girlfriends talking about this Herbalife weight loss program, which was successful for them. I approached the whole thing knowing they were going to try to sell me, and I refuse to be sold. I'm too knowledgeable for that and I have used all of the sales tricks myself.



I met with the rep, who was very touchy-feely from the get-go. Wanting to hug, touching my arm, smiling and repeating things like "Love it, love it!" Good thing it was a girl. If it was a guy, I probably would have walked out. I don't know you! Stop touching me!



I've been rather judicious with what I've purchased, but it hasn't been as bad as I anticipated. Sure, I really haven't lost any weight with them, but I have noticed a few changes. One thing I that I have always agonized over are my more than unusual weak nails. I could never grow them out because they always split and broke, and I've always been able to bend them with no pain. In the two months I've been slurping up these protein shakes, my nails have stopped splitting and breaking and are the longest I've ever had them. Genius! Also with the help of my rep, my diet is slowly changing for the better and I'm working up that mental muscle of self control. Hebalife is no magic bullet, but it has been helping me make some changes. Sure as hell slowly, but surely.



I also realized that I'm totally bored with the gym and I don't want to play anymore! So I've been trying to vary my activities, like climbing the steps at Baldwin Hills that kill me almost every time. And I signed up for a dance class. A pole dancing class, to be exact. There are only a few girls in the class, taught by a rather talented stripper, in a nicely dark-lit room. You know what happened when I started learning those tricks on that pole? I remembered what it was like to feel sexy.



When I was a performance dancer in school, I was skinny, strong, sexy, and I knew it and loved it. I constantly teased the boys, went through them one by one and had a great time doing it. I had lost that spark years before the weight gain, right when I stopped dancing. It started to bubble back up when I felt my hand grab that pole, threw my weight to one side and spun myself around. I just knew I had to find that place again. So what if it was found in a darkly lit room with my eyes closed, dancing in high heels. I needed to get back to me! So I signed up for more.



So with my pole dancing classes, new activities of hiking and stair climbing, I'm calling "DO OVER!" with a protein shake in my hand.