Exercise: Day 6.25 of 30, 20 minutes of cardio.

I skipped a couple of days at the gym. There's one excuse (it was too cold) and one reason (I had a migraine). Now I am going to try to finish my 30-day challenge on time so I will have to increase my workout lengths just to keep up. *Sigh*. My legs were happy to have two days of rest but my lungs and chest were not. It felt like I was breathing fire on the CrossRamp and the pain was searing. I hung in there, though, and finished 25 minutes at over 3,000 paces taken, keeping the resistance and the incline up for most of my workout, until I decided to 'sprint' to my strides goal.

I'm a little proud. I'm a little ashamed.

Exercise: Day 5 of 30, 20 minutes of cardio.

Did I mention I curse? I curse. And I'm about to curse now. So if that offends you, please leave.

Thanks.

It's 17 motherfucking degrees in Brooklyn and with the windchill, it feels like 3.

And what the hell did I have to do? Go to the gym.

I cannot tell you how much prodding, pushing, bitching and moaning this took. I feel like I've been going to the gym for weeks. And how long has it been? 4 damn days. Ah, Sophia, you fatass you. I muttered something to myself about working out at home, doing some abdominal muscles and some free weights. But I wasn't, really, and in any case neither of those are cardio so I somehow got my sluggish behind in gear to go to the gym.

So I walk....The wind is tearing the blemishes off of my face. I walk...And I drop my bottle of nasty-ass Dasani water but don't stop to pick it up because although it's a $1.50, it's really fucking cold out and I won't stop cause I can't stop, like a rap song says. I walk...And nearly get hit by some asshole at a light. I walk...and I get to the gym.

Thank you Lord God because the CrossRamp is available. I even have a decent view of a basketball game. I can do this. I'm gonna live, dammit! I'm gonna LIVE! Then here is one of the hells of being in the gym: being looked at. The man at the treadmill next to me is looking at me, clearly looking at me because the other machines are empty and I am the only person to look at. I decide he's looking at me because I look like, well, a hobo. I've got a really, raggedy wide-necked scoop top and two pairs of holey gym pants and my hair's a mess. Also, I reek of cheap Chinese food (dinner). Then I notice he's looking only at my chest. Ah, my 38DD bosom rising and falling prominently beneath my wide scoop-neck top. What a gent. Finally, he grows bored and looks at some girl's ass. I feel sorry for her. And for her ass.

Then two girls hop on the machines next to mine. I vaguely wonder if the lech next to me will deign to look at their butts or boobs or both. Then I hear them loudly denouncing 'fat Dominicans' and giving me pointed looks. One girl asks the other, "Are there *any* fat women at this gym?" The other replies, "Not really. That's the biggest girl I've ever seen here" and nods in my direction.

It's official: I AM THE FATTEST WOMAN EVER SEEN AT MY GYM.

Yay.

Despite the nonsense, I still managed to have a kickass workout. I did the CrossRamp proud, kept the incline and the resistance up and ran my way to 2744 strides. I was breathing harder than a Triple Crown winning horse but it really proved how much I've accomplished in 5 short days.

Exercise: Day 4 of 30, 20 minutes of cardio

I went to the gym today mentally counting on the elliptical crossramp to be available and not a single of the seven machines was. Ah but the diabolical crosstrainters stood empty, ready to be mounted. Joy. The first five steps I thought about hopping off. My thighs were seriously unamused and I had a feeling that I was going to be repeating the small debacle that was Day #1. But today I found that my lung capacity was much better, as was my heartbeat. My muscles were just tired and not eager to cooperate. I didn't keep too close a watch on my metrics because my mind kept wandering to thoughts of getting off the machine and, you know, siting down, so picking up the pace wasn't too much of an option. I silenced my inner drill sargentand did the best I could do without tearing into myself mentally. Nevertheless, I crossed the 20 minute mark feeling strong and having covered 1.72 Precor (miles?) units.

Foe or Ally?

So yeah, I am looking for a magic solution. I don't want to go to the gym. I don't want to stop baking rich desserts. And the honest truth is that if I were an ectomorph who couldn't gain weight, I would probably imbibe everything I could get my slim fingers around. So alli, the over-the-counter version of Xenical recently approved by the FDA, has captured my imagination. Alli works by blocking absorption of approximately 25% of the fat you eat, sending it out of your body as an oily residue (egh). I recall that the last time I lost weight, it took me months to drop pounds I never reached my ideal weight. It's a discouraging reality and the primary-hued box of alli materials is an encouraging enticement.

The alli web site is peppered with testimonials from consumers who have lost significant amounts of weight using the pill but the truth is that even on Xenical, which contains twice the level of active ingredient that causes fat-discharge, users lost only an average of 6 pounds. But what if I could be an exception to the rule? What if I could be like the woman who lost 30 pounds in 16 weeks? What if a few instances of upset digestion after a fattening meal could cause me to hate and fear consumed fat in the long term?

I know it's kind of crazy. This pill could feasibly cause permanent digestive track issues, maybe a cancer, some kind of organ failure. It's happened before with Fen/Phen, which caused sometimes-fatal cardiac failure. But my BMI is likely around 35 and today I am a desperate, un-proud fat woman. My 'fat-neutral' body politics are pushed to the side and I really, really just want to not be shopping in the 'Plus Size' section of the department store. I want to be a size 12 again, a size 10 again, a size 8 again, today.

I think weight loss pills have hurt far more people than they have helped and I suspect this continues to be true. But just like all drugs that promise happiness, this one is seductive. And sadly, I won't write it off as a possible partial solution just yet.