I bet you and I have a lot in common.
We grew up similar. A lot of love, even if our families weren’t perfect. Small town. High school boyfriend we thought we’d marry and now, years later, we’re so glad we didn’t. Maybe you played a sport or two. Maybe, like me, you were on the cheerleading squad. We were never chosen last in gym class, but we certainly weren’t chosen first. We weren’t the best athletes and gym class was the worst, but we held our own just enough to get by. No one was backing up in the outfield when it was our turn in kickball though.
We were never quite “in” with the cool kids, were we? We hung on the fringes, not really accepted into their club, but invited to just enough sleepovers and parties to feel like we stood a chance. We did pretty well in school, after all, and always had the Spanish homework they didn’t have time to do the night before.
Maybe you went straight to college after high school. Or, like me, you did a couple of years at the local community college and changed your mind about your major a few times before you settled on something you liked well enough and transferred to a four-year school to finish out the degree.
We had a good time in college. We never went off the rails, but we did have a few memorable nights. We made some of our best friends and didn’t really focus on the dating scene. There was the occasional date, a good guy friend to take to a formal or date party, but there was never “the” guy and we were okay with that. We had bigger fish to fry – get that degree, land the right internship, graduate with a job waiting for us while all of our friends were frantically searching for a part-time gig before their student loans kicked in.
Check, check, and check.
Those first post-college months – years? – were a reality check for us. Rent was hella expensive in that new city we had to move to because we decided years earlier that we were done with our hometown. Except our rent was actually dirt bottom pricing because that’s all we could afford on our entry level “OMG I have real job!” salary. We put in a lot of long hours, did a lot of Sonic happy hours, and picked up a lot of fast food on the way home because who even wants to cook after pulling a twelve hour day at a crappy job that mostly paid? At least our co-workers were pretty awesome. We turned up almost on time the next day and did it all over again in the name of a paycheck.
Our groceries were broke girl budget staples like canned tuna fish and ramen, hold the flavor pack, add the store brand can of diced tomatoes because at least then it looked respectable. When we did buy vegetables, they were frozen and forget the fruit, because have you seen the price of a bag of grapes? Besides, we had to choose between grapes to eat and (cheap) grapes to drink, and after a week at that job, we’ll take the Rex Goliath on sale with our shopper rewards card, thank you very much.
I’d guess you were at Old Navy when it happened – mostly because that’s really all you could afford, save for the occasional splurge on a Loft 40% off dress. You grabbed a bunch of passably cute clothes and headed to the dressing room, thinking about the day when you’ll be able to shop at Nordstrom without going hungry for the week. You assured the dressing room attendant you only had 10 items, when really you had twelve because you arranged the clothes in your arms just so – not your first rodeo – and shut yourself in the plastic square with crappy hooks to try on your goods.
Those size whatever jeans – the same size you could swear was the same size as your two-year-old pair in your closet – wouldn’t go over your hips. The dress fit like a sausage casing. We don’t talk about what our arms looked like in that tank top. You sheepishly walked out of the dressing room, tried not to make eye contact as you put your entire selection on the discard table, and walked out.
Maybe you weren’t always “chunky” as the grandparents like to say. Or maybe, like me, you were. Regardless, it in that moment, you didn’t feel great about yourself.
I’d guess you did what I did here, too.
You tried everything.
Low carb. Keto. Whole30. South Beach. Calorie counting. Military diet. Shakes as meals. Meal prep services. You may have even gotten roped in by that girl you haven’t talked to since high school who sells one of those “OMG it will change your life!” products or fitness DVDs. She probably still “checks in” from time to time.
You tried all the things, or so it seemed. You would have some success, then have a cheat meal, miss a few days of workouts, and then on hey, there are those ten pounds you lost, plus a few of their friends and the cycle started all over again.
Yo-yo dieting is a real bitch, if we’re being honest. The frustration? It’s real. You’ve probably cried more than a few times over your body, your lack of self-confidence, your perceived lack of being lovable.
I certainly have.
I still have my moments. Just this weekend, while trying on a suede skirt in a Nordstrom dressing room, I had a moment of hating my hips and wishing they would just go away already, no matter the fact that those hips had helped me deadlift almost 300lbs hours earlier.
That’s what I’m trying to say here.
I get it.
I get you.
I’ve been you.
I am you.
I’ve struggled with the same things you’re struggling with. I still struggle with some of those things. I’ve cried in dressing rooms and deemed myself unworthy of insert thing here, based purely on how I look and feel about myself. I still catch myself thinking “when I’ve lost a few more pounds I’ll…”
My heart is with women like us – women trying to get healthy, get in shape, feel more confident in their own skin. My personal experience has been one of my greatest gifts as it’s allowed me to connect with my clients on their level and understand where they’re coming from, coach them through the hard days and celebrate with them on their best days.
I want to work with you. But here’s the thing. I’m not going to promise you a bunch of weight loss and a beach body. I spent a lot of time chasing that idea before realizing the real goal is health. It’s not about doing cardio to fit into a size two. It’s about living your best life – playing with your kids, carrying them up a flight of stairs, hauling in the groceries, alleviating those pesky aches and pains, bringing down blood pressure, reducing the risk of diabetes…
And it’s about nourishing the body, not depriving it. It’s about moving well, not moving around creaky joints and tight backs.
If you want a personal trainer that will help you “get skinny,” I’m not your girl.
But, if you’re looking for someone who has a similar story, who gets what it’s like to struggle with self-confidence and weight and feeling out of place, I might be your girl.
Learn more about my personalized training programs.
Have questions? Send me an email and we’ll talk it out.