Amy's secret for the last 5 months

5 months. That's how long I've been going to the gym now. I'm not happy about going. But my husband ever so kindly encourages me to go. He lays this "just like you take care of your spiritual body, so should you take care of your physical body" crap on me. So, I make myself go. I need to go. I'm going to stick with something for once in my life. I need to lose these baby pounds. They say as you get older it gets harder, so I'm determined to get healthy.
I didn't tell people because I think I felt guilty for taking time for myself. When I would miss calls early in the morning I would usually just say I was out running errands. Which I was running. On a treadmill.
For 11 years I've stayed home and taken care of my family and loved every single second. And now, my life allows me the time to do something for me.
Now you may say, "oh Amy, you don't need to lose weight, you look good, blah, blah, blah". That's why I haven't told anyone that I've been going to the gym for 5 long dying months. I don't need to hear that.
I need to hear, "bout time you finally decided to get your butt back in shape, you've looked like crap since '01".
Now after all this time, I've hit a wall. Not physically, mentally. Physically, I wish I could say I had hit a wall, that would mean I had lost something. Maybe even an earring. But no. Not even 1 pound.
Mentally, I've come to the point of quitting. I've worked my tail off and haven't lost a single ounce. SO why keep going. And don't give me the bull of "muscle weighs more than fat". Ain't gonna work for this chick.
So, I got the help of a trainer. When people need help in their life spiritually they go to their pastor, right? So,I figure I need help physically, I go to a trainer. Friday was my first day. I hate him already. And no, he doesn't wear spandex.
He began by warming me up. WHAT? That was the warm up? I'm going to die. I know it.
I didn't want to appear weak, so I pushed myself. Worked with a pulled muscle. Only hit him once. And I had forgot to eat before I went.
Last thing I remember we were working abs. Lower abs. I must have turned white as a sheet because he said, "you alright?" to which I said, "yeah, just need to keep breathing". All the while I'm picturing the players on Biggest Loser and their last chance workout, telling myself, "can't fall below the yellow line". Then things just kinda start to go fuzzy.
Then I hurled the 15lb weight at him & sprinted to the bathroom puking my guts up.
Yeah, I really hate him.
He's working me again on Monday...