Confirmation

"You've lost weight." - Murphy, with a smile, after our second hug of Shibaricon

"Well either you're still exercising or you've seriously decreased your calories." - Slut, on our way to registration

"Where have you gone? You're disappearing... Well, not all of you is gone." - Gray, sliding his hand around my stomach, then ending up on my ass

Three different people, without prompting, told me I lost weight within my first few hours of Shibaricon. They just saw me, hugged me, and then casually mentioned this thing that it is so hard for me to believe.

When I look at myself in the mirror, occasionally I glimpse the beautiful person I wish to be. I see the smile in my eyes, the pinchable cheeks, and even, occasionally, the dimples. I see the curly hair and the easy grin.

But no matter how hard I try, because I live with this body every day, I don't see when I loose weight.

I feel it when I self suspend. My breathing is less labored. I hold positions longer. I've just started to work on transitions in air and more challenging poses. That I can feel; my body can feel it.

But when it comes to my weight...

The closest I came to seeing what my friends so sweetly pointed out was, in fact, as I got ready Thursday evening.

I packed two matching sundresses, one red and one blue. As I got prepared for the Thursday night Meet & Greet, I decided to wear my red one. I was in a good mood, having survived the eleven hour road trip, and now able to see my far away friends for an entire weekend.

All ready, showered, shaved, lotioned, and body sprayed, I looked at myself in the mirror. Cute, as per usual.

But that's when I noticed something a little different. Maybe it was the lighting. Maybe it was because I was happy bubbly. But it seemed... it seemed...

Okay, there is no subtle way to put this. My stomach wasn't as noticeable in my dress. I had come to accept that whenever I wore my sundresses, you would see every curve of my tummy. And I was okay with that. Best people see my shape from the onset, so then I'd know they were attracted to me, big girl and all.

But as I looked at myself in the mirror, for the briefest of moments I thought, Um, maybe they're right? As a person who had neglected my usual training schedule for the past month, I was more than a little shocked. But it was the briefest of moments, three blinks of the eye at most.

Pushing away the thought, I headed down stairs. And after snacking on grilled veggies and chatting, a friend and I walked over to greet Gray. His compliment, with accompanying hand slide and hug, was the first thing out of his mouth to me.

One person saying it, they're being nice. Two, thoughtful. Three...

Ok. I guess I've lost weight then.

The Opposite Of Progress

"Does that work?"
"Yeah, you just have to kick it."

I saw the scale on the floor of the warehouse, and thought, Why not?

I should have just kept walking.

Then again, maybe I'm better off knowing for sure.

It was as I expected; not good.

Two weeks of vacation. The busy season kicking in. Stressing about work. Stressing about money. And sleep as an absentee friend.

Of course I gained weight. I had decreased my workouts from 5-6 times a week to once or twice. I haven't been able to dine at home more than one meal a day since before April.

Imparted with this knowledge, the next day I ventured back onto the treadmill. I warmed up for a quarter mile, then ran my normal thirty minute routine. I had to skip a bit of the jogging, but I finished.

Still, I felt deflated. I figured this was a perfect time to wallow. I tried to cry and stay sad for my twenty minutes.

But I ended up cheating. I texted friends. I felt shitty when they didn't respond, which in turn helped me wallow more.

And then I danced, smiling and laughing and tossing my hair about. I sat with DeepEnd and ate my lunch, a salad. And afterwards I rigged.

I used my new hemp, playing around, trying different body positions and points on my
frame to hang from.

And then, in a moment of happiness, it hit me: I was still stronger and more fit than when I started this journey so many months ago. I did not tire out. My legs, though aching from effort, endured all I asked of them. Yes, I'd gained a little back, but I had not lost the stamina I'd worked hard to build up.

Every busy season is the same. I want to do X. I get huge amount of work Z. In the end, I land somewhere in the middle, Y.

So I've got to get myself into training mode again. Shibaricon is less than three weeks away (HOLY SHIT!) and I want to be ready, more than ready, for a weekend of awesome rope-y fun.

Because, despite what some might think, big girls can, and love, to fly too.

Results

I started as normal, tying a harness around my chest. People looked on, friendly heckling as they liked. Music was playing, so I danced a bit as I continued to tie. I moved on to my hip harness, winding my rope thrice around my middle. I attached to the bands on my hip, and wove around my thighs. All of my usual ropes were complete.

As I tied, I had to keep telling myself to relax. Pretend like they're not watching. Pretend you are just at home in the basement dicking around. Breathe.

But then came the hard part. I looped my lifting lines through my usual three points: one at the center of my chest and one on each of my legs. First, I attached the chest, using a different rope than normal, a longer rope. No, be brave. I took off my chest line and instead grabbed my usual short piece. I tied off to my ring and continued.

I started to lift my right leg. Wait, which one am I stronger on? I switched to my left. My left leg and chest in the air, I sat back and lifted my right leg. I was now in my basket, ready to take the fall.

A friend came over and spotted me, just in case. I was about to attempt the hardest part.

I untied my chest point and slowly let myself down. I was inverted. It felt amazing, as usual.

Okay, just do it.

Collapsing in my core, I lifted my body up, and re-strung my chest line through my ring. I tied off, without help. I did it.

I was more than elevated, more than pleased. In my previous attempts at this maneuver, each time I failed. The first time I needed assistance to physically help me down. The second time I was able to reach the floor with my tippy toes and unlock my thighs ropes. Never before had I lifted my body, held my own weight, and tied off my chest point without assistance.

I knew why this time was different as soon as my feet were on the floor again. I wasn't breathing heavy. I wasn't exhausted. I wasn't panting. I was sweaty, but not as much as usual. It was obvious; the treadmill time was working.

I haven't been exercising consistently for that long, but in the short amount I have gotten in, I've already seen the results in both large and small ways.

Going up multiple flights of stairs.

Quick walks when I'm in a rush for work.

Work, in general, with the lifting and pushing of heavy objects and climbing into trucks to maneuver awkward gear.

Holding up a friend while we demonstrated an awesome fucking scene.

The teeny tiny ever-so-miniscule amount of extra space in both my work pants and, sadly, my bra.

I'm not focused on the end result of this experiment; I have no specific result in mind. But the journey...

The journey's working out just fine.

Something New

Today I started something hard. Get your mind out of the gutter; this is not one of those posts. It was difficult, challenging, but I felt great afterwards, and feel it will be worthwhile, if I can get myself to continue.

This morning, I woke up at 6:30am, put on my sneakers, and got on my roommate's treadmill. I tried the level two interval, walking and running for a total of thirty minutes. It hurt, but with my music playing, and me singing along, it was kinda fun, too.

I can't point to the moment where I decided to start running in the morning. I can tell you about the positive influences in my life that make me want to run before work.

I live with two athletes. SkinnyBitch runs marathons; DeepEnd is a hardcore cyclist. I rode with DeepEnd on a fun ride up in my hometown recently. He, thankfully, stuck with my pace, and we had a great time. I love riding my bike, a lot, but it is too fucking cold outside, not to mention too fucking dark when I get home. So, the treadmill.

I must confess, I had hoped my roommates would have such a positive influence over me before I even walked into our home. I knew they were way more active than I am, though my job is physical in nature. I like doing heart-racing, breath-gasping things. It's just you have to get me off the couch and moving for me to actual engage in physical fun.

And now that I've started bloviating on this one little topic, I now know when I decided to start running. It was two things, piled one on the other, that pushed me forward.

Recently SkinnyBitch, while in my car, breezily mentioned her dress size to me and how it was big enough. I know she meant big enough for her, but alas... If you put a one in front of her dress size, you would then know mine. I can say, for certain, I have not been her dress size since before high school.

The second moment, again from SkinnyBitch, was after dinner last night. Complimenting me on the meal I cooked, she unbuttoned her jeans, adding this was a problem. The bottoms in question were, in fact, her fat jeans.

When I look at her, I don't see fat. I see, in fact, a skinny bitch. But that was enough to motivate me. Because if even she felt like more exercise needed to be added to her life, than I definitely needed to add some to mine.

I have no solid goals for this endeavor. No amount of weight loss, no waist line measurement will make me feel like I've grabbed the brass ring. It would be nice to fit into a certain dress I have hanging in my closet. And it would be nice to feel better, overall, about my health and fitness. Most of all, it would be nice to go into a department store, and not worry if they still have anything in my size.

So, I'm trying this. Something new, though not really all that new. I'm a chic; I've tried regular exercise before. In my previous attempts, my efforts fizzled out because of work or fatigue. However, since I'm starting this at the height of busy season, when I really need to work everyday til I can't work anymore, I no longer have my job as an excuse.

And, frankly, having my two roommates in the house is a motivator. Knowing they are training to be in tip-top shape for Spring, and that they know I've started running, is reason enough to keep me going.

Yes, I'm doing this for me, but in a way I want to do it for them, too. Because, though they'd never say it to me, if I crash and burn on this, it would feel like I'm letting the house down.

I mean, we're all hot. How can I not contribute to the furthering of our hotness.