Wellness, Post One.

Ok so I haven't officially met with Faith, my wellness coach, but I've filled out her questionnaire (sending it today, Faith!!) and hopefully we'll meet soon to discuss this whole Wellness thing.

I've also made a decision. I've decided to join the YMCA. I was sitting here one day, bemoaning my broke-ass existence, wishing that the Y here had a cheap single parent rate like the JCC does. Not that I have anything against the JCC, it's just that I had belonged to the Y for years and years before becoming poor. My kids love it there. I have a routine there, even if I haven't dusted off said routine in eons, it's still there. I feel some guilt about choosing the Y over the J, mostly because a friend whom I adore was instrumental in trying to get my butt back to the gym. Sweet friend, I hope you know that the only reason I chose one over the other was the comfort factor, for both me and kids. I ♥ you for inspiring me to do this.

So I was sitting here, feeling sorry for my fat self when I decided to "like" the Y on facebook and ask them why they don't have a membership option for single parents. And within minutes, seriously, I received a reply. They said the blah blah stuff, encouraged me to apply for a scholarship (it's called a Personal Pricing Plan there), etc. I responded that scholarships are awesome, but it's somewhat humiliating to have to ask for one. And besides, I added, if there was a cheaper, single-parent rate, fewer scholarships would have to be awarded.

They acknowledged this fact, and were very respectful in the roundabout way they told me, "Ok, loser, we GET IT." Then a woman from the YMCA branch that I want to join popped on, and asked me to contact her.

Long story short, I'm joining the YMCA. My old stomping grounds. Apparently the humiliation of filling out yet another financial aid/need/pauper form has been trumped by my frustration over being two tons of fun.

Can I afford it? Yes and no. The bottom line is, I can't afford NOT to do it. I'm a survivor, a fighter, and I'm very resourceful. If anyone can juggle a budget or try to find a few extra $$$ a month, it's this chick right here.

So I went to the Y with my friend Michelle a couple times last week, and last night went to Body Pump with another good friend. I'm officially signing up on Tuesday so I've been mooching using these lovely ladies' guest passes. And it feels AWESOME.

Once I got over the soul-crushing embarrassment of walking my now ginormous ass into a gym where the trainers used to actually stop me and ask how I lost my weight, it was fabulous. I am beyond pissed at myself for letting my body morph back into it's pre-divorce shape but I guess the pain of looking like the world's fattest ninja (courtesy of my own version of the workout burka...all black, head to toe, everything covered but my head) in front of a gym full of people is punishment enough. Jenny, I forgive you.

I had forgotten how good it feels to exercise. Sure, I've been walking now and then, but that doesn't hold a candle to doing sets on the weights, or going full speed (well, full speed for now) on the treadmill or making it through an hour of Body Pump (which is the class that got me into my kick-ass shape a few years ago).

My arms are killing me, my legs are sore, my back feels like it's been used as a trampoline, but I feel good. After just a few workouts I'm already feeling those awesome endorphins and I swear to all things holy and good I can feel the tiniest bit of difference in my body already.

The fit and happy Jenny who has been buried under two years of Taco Bell, margaritas and sadness is coming out to play....get ready, world.

I'm going to leave you with a video of Body Pump. I cannot recommend this class enough. Every instructor I've had has been encouraging, kind and motivating. If you want to feel fit, feel powerful and feel strong, this is the class you should think about doing:




That's not *my* YMCA, but you get the gist of it. By the way, that move they do with the hoisting of the barbell over the head? That's the clean and press (I think) and when you do that in a room full of people, with kick ass music playing, you can literally feel the Happy Hormones flooding into your brain. That class ROCKS.

One last thing...I had another Handsy experience this weekend. Not with the original Handsy...a new one. Why is it that the only guys on this planet who show any interest at all in me are married? Why??? Is it the "she's divorced, not exactly hot, I bet she'll be grateful for the attention" thing? Whatever it is, I hate it. I despise being put in that position and I resent having to deal with the awkward and uncomfortable feelings I get when this happens. This particular encounter didn't end as quietly as it did with Handsy V.1.0. More later.

Have a good day, friends. Be well!