The Heavy Lifting

 Building a really good fire takes some work. Once it's burning merrily, all you have to do is throw another log in every so often to keep it going.

If you run out of logs, eventually the fire will go out.

I'm not sure my fire is all the way out - there may still be some embers glowing away in there. In fact, I'm sure there are; you can't keep a bonfire that size going for years and expect it to just go out over a couple of months. But I am clean out of fuel to keep it going.

The fire I'm referring to here is the shame I have felt over my appearance for most of my life. I haven't wanted to write about this because I wanted to be sure before I put it out there. If you've been around here for a while you know that I've flip-flopped on this a few times. But something has changed over the last two months:

I have run right out of fucks to give on this matter.

And you know what? It feels great, but in a weird, guilty way - like I've stolen something and gotten away with it. Ever since I was a kid I've had it in my head that in order to be - what? Good? Worthy of love or respect? I had to be lithe, athletic, and competitive. Anything less was embarrassing and bad and needed fixing. I've been trying to hate myself thinner since I was ten years old.

So what changed? Well, it wasn't a single event. After the great gym meltdown of a couple of months ago and my subsequent decision to stop worrying about what other people thought and just be me (which seems trite when I put it like that but I promise it hasn't been easy), it seemed like the next logical step was to accept what is.

And what is, is this:

I am overweight, this is true. But I am not JUST overweight - I am so much more than that, that the weight thing doesn't even bear mentioning in this context. I'm a trainer, a musician, a writer, an athlete, mother, wife, sister, friend, foodie...

...and I have had it with tying myself into knots trying to look a certain way. I'm not even going to try anymore, 'cause here's the thing: I work out because I enjoy it. Finding where my limits are each day and pushing them just enough feels awesome.  There's an art to building a really great exercise program that demands intuition, creativity, empathy, and oh yeah, some science doesn't hurt either I guess. Along the same lines, I eat well because it makes me feel good. But also, creating healthy recipes and meals that taste good and look pretty and help people feel like this eating well thing is manageable and sustainable, makes me ridiculously happy.

So this is me truckin' on, doing the same things I've always done...not doing them angrily and frantically in pursuit of a specific outcome (which still may be out of reach), but because those are the things I love the most. Did I mention I love lifting weights? Consider that weight LIFTED, bitches!

Moving Forward Again

Dear World,
I got pretty angry at you last week. Now that we've had a few days to cool off, let's talk it out - what do you think?

I've had a crazy flood of messages come at me over the weekend, which is awesome (and really I was pretty overwhelmed at the outpouring of support so thanks again everyone) because my goal here is to call out the elephants in the room, to get people to notice them and acknowledge them and hey, maybe even start up a conversation and get some understanding going on both sides. Yes, I did mean for that double entendre to happen. Yes, it's a little offensive. But the shoe fits.

Here's the thing though, and a lot of you mentioned it - I dare say a lot more of you read my rant and thought it but didn't want to say anything - but don't worry, I was thinking it too:
Whose hang-up is this anyway? Am I just projecting all my own shit all over everyone? Is it my issue or everyone else's?

The answer is, it's gray area. (Okay, I'll stop with the double entendres now. Ha.) Of course lots of it came from my own head. Probably some of the people I ran into at the gym just didn't see me or recognize me...but it wasn't ALL me. There's no way. And this isn't just my problem, weight gain has a huge stigma attached to it, especially in the fitness industry...and I get why. I really do - and if I'm honest, I can't even disagree with it a hundred percent.

I'm reminded of a conversation I had recently with my boss: I was attempting to express to him my frustrations with being and feeling judged at work, that my current appearance isn't ME and I don't know less or feel like I should be worth less because I've gained 60lbs. After all, I didn't suddenly decide one day that to hell with this eating properly and exercising shit, I was just going to sit around and eat pizza and donuts...I developed a tumour which caused a hormone imbalance. I never stopped valuing healthy living,  it just LOOKS like I did.  His response (and he was matter-of-fact but not unkind) was that like it or not, as trainers it is our job to be paragons of good health, to be the inspiration, to model the lifestyle that we're selling. People judge based on what they see, I can't expect them not to and I have no real right to get angry about it.

So there's that. Here's what it really boils down to, though, and this is the conclusion that I've reached after stewing for days about how to deal, debating whether or not to even stay in this field, and wondering how to move forward in a body that doesn't seem to want to. Ready?

"After stewing in his emotions, emo veg comes to the 

conclusion that the root of the world's problems

 is that people don't seem to carrot all."

I could drive myself crazy trying to own everyone else's shit, trying to change the world and alter how people think and interact and function from day to day....or not. Instead I could just accept that all this body image stuff is my challenge to face, and just keep on putting one foot in front of the other. Either way, it's my choice, and I'm choosing not to make myself crazy. My efforts are better spent elsewhere - like on learning to feel like myself again!

So, dear world, think what you want. I don't have to know or care because the only opinions and prejudices I have to own are mine. It is not up to me to please you. I'm not sure where that leaves us but I think our relationship can grow from here now that we've re-balanced the power.

Growing Invisible

"Wow. WOW. Okay, you can step down from there."

Obediently, I stepped off the scale and sat down in the endocrinologist's office. The nurse had asked me to face away from the display on the scale so I had no idea what the damage was. Actually, that's a lie. I had some idea.

"Are you aware that over the last year your weight has increased more than twenty percent? TWENTY PERCENT!!"

Yes, I said, I am aware. That's a big part of why I'm here.

"OK. Well. As long as you're aware."

***

Dear everybody, I haven't written in a while...I've been in a not so good place.

See, I thought that getting fat was not going to change who I was. I thought that it wouldn't - couldn't - change how people who knew me saw me. I thought that having a solid professional track record would outweigh (pun intended) my appearance. How wrong I was about everything.

Apparently, if you're a trainer it doesn't matter what you know, who you are, or what your history is. If you get fat, you turn into a joke. Nobody cares why. It doesn't matter, because in the fitness industry it's all about looking good. If you don't look the part then you're a fraud.

But I knew all that. It's not a subtle point that's been driven home again and again, but something happened today that went a little deeper than usual. Gather 'round everyone, I have a story for you.

So three weeks ago, I turned to a well-known trainer's online coaching program. I'll tell you more about that in another post, but this program is a pretty extreme regimen - not at all what I usually preach to my clients, but you have to understand that I needed desperately to feel like myself again.
I was heavier than I'd been in years, I was fighting with awful side effects from the new drug the endocrinologist had put me on, my career was in free fall, and my confidence was at rock bottom.

But this morning, after three grueling weeks on my new program with a hard-ass coach in my corner, I was down eleven pounds and starting to feel better. I decided that it was time to make an appearance where I used to work...so I wandered into the old stomping ground and bought a membership - I wanted somewhere else to train besides my current studio and it was close by. Plus I thought it would be fun to see some familiar faces and catch up. Seemed to make perfect sense.

Now, in my current state, eleven pounds down is nice and all, but it's a drop in the barrel. I know there's a long way to go. But I'm still me, even if I look like I climbed into a sumo suit and can't find my way out. Or so I thought.

Because you know what happened in the gym this morning? Nothing. People I knew and would have stopped to talk to looked at me and quickly looked away. People I was happy to see and shared food and gossip with at social gatherings only a few months ago avoided eye contact so conspicuously it bordered on ridiculous. In the hour and a half that I spent there I didn't talk to a soul.

I didn't know how to feel. Invisible. Hurt. Angry. Seriously, people? Is it so awful to be seen talking to a chunky person? Or is it that the first thing that comes out of your mouths when you see each other is "oh my gawd you look so lean and gorgeous!" (or something to that effect) and you can't say that to me? Is it so hard to make conversation about something meaningful instead of an exchange of superficial banalities? Or are you just so horrified that you don't know what to say?

I debated what to do. Go hide in the shower and cry? No. Cut my workout short and go home in shame? Fuck that. I mean, don't get me wrong - the options that included cutting and running were attractive, but I didn't want to be that girl. I finished my workout. Then I went and cried in my car.

So dudes, here's the thing: I don't want to be a trainer anymore. I don't want to be part of this youth-and-beauty-worshipping poisonous bullshit factory that masquerades as an industry that's supposed to help people. I became a trainer because I thought I could help change that, but then I gained 60lbs and turned invisible.

Anyway. For the moment I don't know what else I would do. I love my job. It makes me so mad that I can't make a living doing what I'm good at because of how I look, that I'm sure I could shoot fire out of my eyeballs if I really tried hard. So for now the plan is this: I'm committed to my coach for three more months. If I can't find some mojo again in that time, I'm out. If I do, then freakin' look out, fitness industry, because I'm coming for you.

Sudoku, Perfection, and Quitting my job

When I got up this morning, I did the usual stuff: went straight to the coffee maker, poured myself a cup, and sat down to see what was new in the world. What was new in MY world, I noticed in about five seconds, was that our internet was down. So today, instead of being passively entertained by news and clickbait, I did some sudoku's.

I know, I know - just about lost you there, didn't I? I could FEEL all of your eyes turning into little crosses as you died of boredom or clicked back to Facebook...but I promise that there's a point to this story. Bear with me, okay?

Now normally a sudoku puzzle takes me about ten minutes, and mistakes are unacceptable in my book - soon as I make a mistake on one, it's pooched so I ditch it and I start a new one. Today I thought I'd do something different and play for speed without worrying about a few mistakes. My app considers it a win if there are three mistakes or less anyway. And I learned something that hit me like a ton of bricks - something I'm sure I knew at some point but forgot. Are you ready?

It's okay to make mistakes. In fact, you learn and accomplish way more by making a mistake and fixing it than you do by tiptoeing around, making sure that zero mistakes happen. You know what else? WORSE MISTAKES HAPPEN when you get stuck in the trying-to-be-perfect rut.

Story time: I quit my job on Monday.

Lately I've been feeling pretty down about the fitness industry, fuelled partly by my frustration at still being overweight (STILL) and my perceived loss of credibility because of it, and partly because there really are an awful lot of people who judge based on appearances. A  disproportionate number of them seem to be drawn to careers in this field...and where once upon a time I would have said that that's why this industry needs me (and others like me), now I was really beginning to wonder what I was doing here. If I was making a mockery of the career I've put my heart and soul into for almost ten years. If I was really just...well...ridiculous.

So with these thoughts gnawing away at the inside of my head, I've been going to work and going to school, trying to keep my head down, study hard, maintain a perfect GPA, be a good and a perfect employee...and I fucked up. I made a bad mistake with a new client, and when she called the gym to complain and I heard about it later, that was the last straw. I decided to hell with this career and this industry, that I was never going to have any credibility, and I'd never succeed in sorting my own health out as long as I kept feeling bad about it. I wrote my resignation letter, hit 'send', and took a deep breath. Done.

See, I forgot: I'm not perfect. I can't be. I don't have to be. And in trying to maintain that veneer of perfection, I nearly drove myself bonkers and made the worst mistake ever. I mean, quit my job? The one that I enjoy and look forward to going to? Ditch my career that I've worked hard to establish? That would have been stupid. But if I hadn't made that mistake I would still be in that nasty rut where nothing short of perfect was acceptable. Instead, I'm tapping away at my keyboard, slightly tipsy from drinking wine with dinner, and feeling like a TOTAL ASS. But that's okay. Feeling like an ass is better than feeling angry at myself for not being a superhero.

So what happened? Well, I have a pretty cool boss who wasn't prepared to accept my resignation without a good explanation...and when, choking back tears, I explained how disappointed in myself I've been for not being amazing, for a second he looked like he was going to laugh at me. "I think you're being a little hard on yourself," he said. We talked it over and he convinced me not to jump ship...I don't think I really wanted to anyway; who would I be if I wasn't a trainer?

So it worked out okay. I feel stupid for letting my emotions get the better of me...but given how much I was holding in, it was bound to all come busting out at some point. I was pushing too hard, stressing too much, and not forgiving myself for being worn out. Time to cut myself some slack maybe, and have some fun. If anyone needs me I'll be in the squat rack!

Group Hug!

Whoohoo, we made it - happy 2015!

Now that I'm done examining and reflecting and bitching about 2014, we can talk about what's going to be AWESOME this year.

I'm pretty excited. You know why? Because there's something really important that I kind of forgot last year as I was clawing my way along, and it bobbed to the surface when I stopped to think about the possibilities of a fresh start...and that really important idea is this:

LOVE is the catalyst for positive change.

What I mean by that is, of course, that steps in the right direction don't come from anger, fear, or aggression - the dark side are they!

Ha ha - sorry, I couldn't resist. But to change your life in a really positive way requires love. Want a healthy, fit body? Start loving it. Honour it for what it does for you and appreciate how it looks NOW. Want great relationships? Show the people closest to you how much they mean and get the cycle going. Want more career satisfaction? Get really fired up and excited about what you do, or if you can't, maybe think of doing something different...because otherwise, life can become a drag. But if you really love what you do and feel a sense of purpose...you know what I'm getting at.

So with that idea in mind, and armed with my non-resolutions (no feeling ashamed of myself and owning my behaviour and emotions), I hereby pledge that 2015 is going to be great. Maybe the best year yet. Are y'all with me?

To hell with the status quo and let's do what makes us happy. (You know, within reason - not endorsing anything crazy here.) For example, most of you know that my primary fitness goal is fat loss. I've felt super frustrated with my physicality for the last, oh, two and a half years, and I've been furiously training and obsessing over eating plans and beating myself up over the extra weight I carry around. I'm done with that.

Instead, I've switched over to a workout program that I genuinely enjoy: training for FREAKISH STRENGTH!  And I'm not stressing over my extra weight anymore, because that wasn't fun - all the negative self-talk, the wondering what people must think of that fat trainer, convincing myself that I have nothing to offer anyone because I don't look they way I should...instead, I am working on appreciating the body I have. Considering how mean I've been to it, it treats me pretty well. And really, it's high time I started returning the favor.

Of course, it's not an easy switch to make - changing a habitual line of thinking is like changing the course of a river after it's worn a deep valley in the ground...it's going to take a while to build a dam and force the water to go where you want it to go. Some little rivulets of nastiness are going to escape from time to time and go down the old path. It's inevitable - and it's okay. It's almost good because it's a reminder of how much the old thoughts hurt.

Hurt. Doesn't it seem sort of ridiculous that hurtful patterns can so easily turn into the default setting? Here's the thing though: changing that reflex to shudder inwardly when you pass a mirror actually feels good. I mean, it's kind of funny to force a good thought in front of a mirror because it feels so weird...but it's a good weird. Silly, even. But some silliness is a welcome change from the constant stream of not-good-enough-ness.

So gang, let's make a deal. In 2015, be happy. Do what gives you a sense of purpose and fulfillment. Honour yourself (even if it's a stretch) and the people closest to you. Pick up heavy stuff for fun. And stoke that big-ass love fire so that good things happen!

Lessons learned in 2014

Well dear ones, it's been a while since I've posted but since it's the Eve of 2015 I think it's time. Right?

Right. Because if ever there was a time to do some reflection it's now - the old year is over and a fresh start awaits...but you can't properly wipe the slate clean and start anew unless you take a moment to reflect, to internalize the lessons learned in the past year, and to figure out what action to take in order to be better and make the world better in the coming year. And also to wipe your feet at the door in order to not track any of 2014's shit into the nice clean new year!

Now, the fitness industry gods may strike me dead for saying this, but I am not a New Year's Resolutionary; my thought is that if there's a change to be made then why wait? And if someone tries to sell you a detox or a cleanse just because it's January 1, RUN. Run away as fast as you can and keep your wallet firmly closed. What the New Year IS good for though, is recognizing life's ups and downs and charting your course based on what you want. Ready for me to wax all self-indulgent? Don't say I didn't warn you...

If I were to attach some words to my experiences over the past year, they would be turbulence. Upheaval. Crushing disappointment. Anger and frustration. And in the very last month of the year: hope. Cautious optimism. I'm not saying that 2014 was all bad - far from it. But I made some, well, interesting and impulsive business decisions. I was forced to take a really long look at why I chose my career...and at this point I don't mind telling you that I came VERY close to packing it in and finding something else to do. My physical health and fitness tanked. I watched my oldest daughter - my little clone, so like me in temperament that it freaks me out a bit - turn 11 and go into grade six, which to my total surprise, ripped open all the old wounds from my own experience at that age and brought all sorts of old anger and resentment to the surface. Relationships fell on their butts and needed to be rebuilt and re-defined. I learned a lot about why I am who I am, but I tell you it was not easy. Still, reality had to be faced and I am firm in my belief that no experience is wasted as long as you learn from it.

So what do I want from 2015? My greatest desire for this year is for some smooth sailing. I mean, I know that the one constant in life is change - that's inevitable - but I am 100% done with things coming crashing down around me. So to that end, I am committing to holding the wheel steady this year while I get back to basics.  I'm going back to school to finish what I started ten years ago, I'm playing music again (how on earth did I live without that for so long? How did I forget how much fun it is?), and I'm letting go of all the drama and shit that got stirred up in 2014.

Two big themes stick out in my mind as I take stock of the past year, and this is what I will carry forward into 2015:

1. Shame sucks. I spent lots of time being ashamed of myself in 2014 - ashamed of how I look, ashamed of how I feel about things, ashamed of how I deal (or don't deal) with adversity. Well, fuck shame. I will not be ashamed of myself anymore. There, I said it. And...

2. I am responsible for only one person's happiness: mine. This is something that I have fought with for my whole life, and it isn't over...but here's the thing: I spent lots of time and energy over the past twelve months feeling angry for two reasons. One, that others had expectations of me that I couldn't meet, and two, that I had expectations of others that they didn't live up to. All the time I spent steaming and stewing over those feelings wasn't wasted; I needed to work through them and deal with them...and what I ended up with is this: I own my feelings. I don't own anyone else's.

2014 was a rough year, full of crises and emotional wreckage and personal and professional rebuilding. It also had moments of sheer beauty and wonder and awesomeness that can only be truly appreciated when surrounded with adversity. I don't regret a second of it...but I'm glad it's over and looking forward to charting some new territory. Oh, and 2014? Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out.

Whoohoo, cooking!

Now there's something that hasn't come out of my mouth in a very, very long time. Don't get me wrong; as a general rule I truly do enjoy putzing around in my kitchen, trying new things (cricket flour, anyone?) and preparing healthy meals...but lately I've been feeling, well, you could say uninspired but that doesn't really cover it. Bitter and twisted is actually closer - and the words 'fed up' come to mind but the cutesy pun it invokes makes me want to punch somebody. See, I enjoy cooking but what I do not enjoy is when, at the end of the day when everyone's tired and crabby, I say "how about stew for supper?" and everyone makes gagging noises. So I say "okay, how about sandwiches?" And they all go "meh" and I get mad and say "fine then, what DO you want?" and am met with a chorus of "food!" or "dunno" or (if you're nine) "olives!"

So clearly it's time to inject some life into my kitchen time. To that end,I have treated myself to two new cookbooks in the last week, and I promised you the verdict on one of them...but you're in for a treat 'cause you're getting the debriefing on them both!

Thug Kitchen Cookbook

Eat like you give a fuck is the tag line to this foul-mouthed tome, and if you've been around these parts for any length of time (or if we've ever hung out together) you will understand why I immediately decided that I needed to add this volume to my library after I saw the trailer on youtube....

This is a vegan cookbook, which under normal circumstances I would consider a deal breaker - I'm not vegan and do not aspire to veganism even a little bit. But inspiration is what I was after, and in order to achieve that, I needed to step out of my comfort zone. Also I kind of figured that it would be entertaining reading. I was wrong on that count.

Open up Thug Kitchen to any old page at all and you will find wholesome recipes, beautifully photographed, with delightfully foul descriptions and narrative asides. I admit it made me laugh out loud a few times, but here's the thing.

When I was in music college, one of my favorite teachers used to talk about using dissonance in composition and arranging as "the oregano on the eggs". Too much is too much, he used to say, and it makes the eggs taste worse. A little bit makes everything taste amazing. I know lots of musicians who will be sprinkling oregano on their eggs for their entire lives because of him!

Too bad the thugs will never be able to truly understand that analogy because they don't eat eggs. But I digress. What I'm really trying to say here is that the liberal use of bad language in Thug Kitchen is a little much, and very little creativity goes into the delivery so that it gets very old very quickly. A well-delivered f-bomb here and there is just enough to be shocking and funny. Five on one page, used in the same way, is just boring and speaks to the writers' poor vocabulary.

The recipes, on the other hand, are lots of fun! They combine some cool unexpected flavours and offer new ways to use ingredients that I keep in my cupboards anyway. Besides a few losers (sorry, chickpeas just don't go in sandwiches) the recipes are great. And if I can add an aside here that I've never heard anyone point out before? Eating more beans, unrefined grains, and legumes is the fastest way, bar none, to put a gargantuan dent in your grocery bill. A week's worth of apple-baked beans cost me about three dollars to make. And it was delicious. Served with BBQ pulled chicken thighs. Fuck veganism! (See what I did there?)

I'm sure that eventually our house will stop smelling like a litter box due to the sudden increase of beans in our diets. But it definitely served the purpose of shaking me out of my rut and getting me excited about cooking again.

Will it Waffle?

I picked up Will it Waffle? at my kids' Scholastic book fair. It looked like fun - a whole book full of ways to cook unexpected things in a waffle iron? Hell yes! The children were particularly excited about chocolate-filled waffle-ironed French toast, and in our excitement we ran home from the book fair, assembled the raw ingredients, and...

...then I realized that the waffle iron that Joel and I got as a wedding present (16 years ago) had finally given up the fight and was ready for the garbage.

So I'll admit that I haven't actually prepared enough of the recipes in the book to judge properly, although I did grill chicken breasts on the (new) waffle iron tonight, with delicious results. I am not, however, particularly impressed with the clean-up it's going to require. Still, this is a book that is ridiculously exuberant solely based on its subject matter and I will love it forever just because of that - and I will keep you posted on the results of red velvet cake waffles, waffled truffle omelets, and waffled mac and cheese.