G.I. Jane Bootcamp

I'm scared. On Monday, I start bootcamp. I told my partner that I think I'm going to die in bootcamp and he said, "You're not going to die in bootcamp. You're just going to wish you were dead." Truer words were never spoken. Part of me is scared. Part of me doesn't care how much it hurts (easy to say now. Let's see what I'm saying on Monday at 7:30 or so...)

I'm doing it for several reasons: I've gained a lot of weight over the past few months and I've stopped exercising entirely. I've always struggled with my weight and it has creeped up over the years but the last two months have been particularly hellish and I've looked for comfort in a bottle of rose and a plate of nachos. My weight is nearing the highest it's ever been but I've let myself off the hook for the past few months and allowed myself to give in to my grief because I knew I was very, very close to my breaking point and something had to give. What gave was my waistline.

I used to lift weights but started having problems with my hip so had to stop doing the class. After that I felt pretty lost at the gym. I'm hoping the bootcamp will be a new challenge. I've always like fairly "basic" exercise. I also used to take boxing classes and we worked on a circuit and did stuff like crunches, skipping, hitting bags, push ups and tricep presses. While excruciating, you feel raw and fantastic afterwards. And that's one of my other reasons. I know I feel better when I'm working out and eating healthy. I've felt like crud since I stopped - but the voices of the demons in my head or devils on my shoulder or whatever you want to call them can shout louder than my internal voice of reason and so they win and I lose.

My final and most embarassing motivation? D (my partner) and I went to Niagara on the Lake yesterday (more on that later). We were having a lovely time, except that we went for dinner in an old pub and my ass barely fit in the chair. I was scrunched in and could feel the spindles on the sides digging into my legs. That's just not right. I told myself that the chair was an antique and that people were smaller back then - but then I looked around the restaurant and saw that no one else seemed to be suffering from that issue. That blew my theory. I am never going to be skinny. I am 5'10 and not small boned or whatever you want to call it. I also love food way too much to shrink myself in order to fit into some damn chair in a tourist town or a pigeonhole of what people deem acceptable. I am lucky that I am with a man who loves me and loves the way I look but I think that after almost 9 years together, his love has developed some cataracts and he doesn't see that I'm not looking so hot. Time for some changes.

The bootcamp has two classes per week and they're an hour long. Surely I can do an hour? There are four weeks in total. That will take me into September so hopefully I will be in a new, healthier state of mind. Of course, as I sit here, I'm drinking my second glass of pink wine and thinking big thoughts so I may be completely deluded. I'll keep you posted. If you don't hear from me after Monday night, I didn't survive the mission.