that one time i beat all the boys….

im going to start this post with a disclaimer.

most people who actually know me are well aware that i am a professional blogger. they’re also generally well aware i’m in the process of writing a memoir. they are also aware that pretty much anything concerning my weight loss journey or lifestyle change is public information. with that said, one of my favorite quotes:

“You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.
— Anne Lamott”

my boyfriend has spent years creating a particular workout and an entire program to go with it. I guess you could say last week was the official launch because his classes finally started. I hadnt been able to get to one due to schedule conflicts but yesterday was the day i would finally get to take the class myself. i was really excited because i knew how much work he put into this and it was a guaranteed great workout. however, i was also really nervous because we have very different workout style and he seriously kicks my ass with every workout. i knew his students who’ve already been taking the class were “fitness people” and its always a little intimidating to be in a class full of people who are great at something youre just starting with.

it ended up being a small class, 4 students and the teacher. i was the only female. There were 5lb and 2.5 weight options. All of the yoga, punches, kicks, and running would be done with them in hand. When all the guys took the 5’s, I decided i was going to push myself and take the 5s too, even though arms are not my strong point. I was pretty proud of myself because i was keeping up really well. Maybe about 15 minutes into the class, my boyfriend stopped to show me the correct form for one of the exercises and one of his students asked “is it her first class?” I loved hearing that because it meant that i was not standing out as someone who had no idea what they were doing. He hadnt assumed it was my first class until i finally needed help, which means up until that point, i was doing a great job keeping up with the big boys.

fast forward about 30 minutes into class and the teacher (also my boyfriend) tells us to get into pretty much a one legged chair pose and hold our arms out wide, with the weights in them. He said to hold it for as long as we could. The first person out would do 50 push ups, the next would do 40, 30, 20, 10. He said to hold AS LONG AS YOU COULD and i SUCK AT PUSHUPS so i thought “fuck, i need to not be the first out.” Can’t lie, i was worried id be out first because my arms were soooo tired at this point and i still had the 5lb weights. But i decided i was going to treat this like the show Survivor (im obsessed) and pretend i was doing one of the balancing challenges. I took the position, picked a spot on the floor to focus on, and we started.

not even 5 seconds passed and my boyfriend said “fuck it” and got down and started 50 push ups. a few seconds later another guy followed suit. Now its been maybe 30 seconds and another guy drops his arms and puts them back up. Im competitive and i cannot believe i actually have a chance, so i called him out on the fact that he put his arms down and put them back up, and he got down and started his 30 push ups. Myself and the guy who asked if it was my first class are left. I am honestly not feeling too bad and in my head, i will hold this shit all fucking day if i have to. finally, the other guy dropped his weights and victory was mine.

i was SO FUCKING PROUD! like SO FUCKING PROUD. i was worried about not being strong enough and being too worn out and i committed to not quitting. My arms were shaking and sweat was dripping, and i didnt quit. it was my first class and i held it the longest. Ive been told im unathletic for my entire life, and i held it the longest. I USED TO BE 300 LBS!!!! AND I HELD IT THE LONGEST! I AM A WOMAN! AND I HELD IT THE LONGEST. i was so damn proud.

class ended great, and while i was waiting for my boyfriend to finish some things up, i made an instagram post about the experience.

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my boyfriend saw it, which i didnt think was a big deal at all, until he decided to confront me about it. He let me know that he “actually founf my post kind of funny” and that it was extremely fake of me. confused, i asked what the hell he was talking about.

“you make it seem like you could hold it longer than everyone else”

ummmm.. i DID hold it longer than everyone else. I was there, i lived it, thats exactly what happened. what are you talking about?

“ok, so you actually think you ‘won’? you didnt realize that everyone else just gave up?”

imagine my fucking face. ok, so youre telling me that im pretty much a joke? everyone decided to tap out early and the joke is on me that i didnt realize it?

yea, pretty much.

i dont think i have to explain how many things are wrong with this, but i will anyway.

my boyfriend insists that everyone else (besides the guy whos arms dropped) stopped because they didnt feel like doing it, and would rather do push ups. I did not out last because i was the strongest or had the best balance, but simply because no one else was trying.

the way i see it is, you told us to hold that shit as long as we could. i went into this class looking to have my ass handed to me and made an agreement with myself that i was going to do EVERYTHING no matter how hard. so when you told me to held that shit I WAS GONNA FUCKING HOLD IT TILL I COLLAPSED. how did i miss the memo that we werent supposed to do what the teacher said, but instead, whatever the fuck we felt like?

i dont care if the all stopped because they wanted to move on or just didnt feel like doing it. THEY ALL STOPPED. I DIDNT. I DIDNT FEEL LIKE FUCKING DOING IT EITHER, BUT I KEPT GOING.

then his story changed to “well theyve all been my students for a while. they know that the real prize was getting to the the 50 push ups, not the 10.”

my entire life ive been told i am not an athlete. in the 5th grade i won a situp contest in gym class and the teacher demanded a re-do because he didnt believe that fat little girl could do that many sit ups.

my best friend used to answer for me when her family would invite me to play basketball as a kid. her intent was to look out for me and save me from the presumed embarassment of having to say that i wasnt going to play, but sometimes deep down, i did want to. but i never spoke up because everyone had already decided i wasnt an athlete.

when i was in high school i never missed a day of gym class, i never forgot my gym clothes, and i did everything the gym teacher told me to do. when grades came around other girls in my class who had skipped and forgotten clothes got A’s, while i got a B+. Gym is the only class on my entire highschool transcript that is not an A, because my gym teacher decided i am not an athlete.

when i started on my weight loss journey and would jog/walk around my neighborhood, a car full of teenagers stopped, laughed at my efforts, and MOOed at me, because they decided i should not run, because i am not an athlete.

well i have some fucking news, and you might want to grab a pen to write this shit down because its something you will need to remember.

I AM A FUCKING ATHLETE.

i dont give a fuck WHO i am being compared to, who i am playing against, who i am playing with, what i am playing, how good or bad i am at it

I AM A FUCKING ATHLETE, DAMMIT.

why? because ive fucking decided. i have ran more miles than many people whove been running their whole lives, and i never ran a day in my life until 3 years ago. i am an athlete because i am strong and can over take almost any obstacle. i am an athlete because i workout and i workout hard. i am an athlete because i show up, i try hard, and i finish.

i am an athlete because i fucking decided i am, and it doesnt matter what anyone else fucking thinks.

whether they dropped their arms because they were tired, whether they fell to the floor because their legs were shaking, whether they prefer to do push ups, whether they just wanted to move on, whether they just didnt care to finish the task, i fucking finished. I did not quit. i was proud then. i am proud now.

and thats where the real problem comes in.

anyone could have said to me what my boyfriend said, and i wouldve been hurt. but the fact that it was my boyfriend? god, it hurt.

i really struggled about whether or not i was going to share this. and then i struggled about whether or not i was going to share it and just leave out the part where the teacher and asshole was also my boyfriend. but then i thought no, this blog is my diary. this is my story to tell, and im fucking telling it. part of me doesnt want any drama from my love life to be public information. part of me doesnt feel its fair to my bf to make this public information. part of me just wants a little slice of my life that is just my business. but this story is not about my relationship. its about my transformation. its about how it doesnt matter if you’ve lost 140lbs and ran 26 miles without stopping, there will always be someone else with bigger issues waiting for an opportunity to shit on you.

anyone couldve done what he did, and said what he said, and it wouldve hurt. but because he was my boyfriend, good god it hurts so deep. although i truly believe this was 100% his ego feeling attacked and absolutely nothing to do with whether i actually “won” or not, i cannot believe the person i have loved and dedicated so much of myself to would be so heartless. pretend it wasnt his ego and pretend everyone really had some little plan to just “let the girl win” so they could get the “real prize”. the kind of man i want to be with wouldve saw my post and thought “ohh wow. poor thing has no idea that they handed it to her. she is genuinely proud. you know what, i care about her feelings and want to support her. so rather than make sure she realizes she aint shit and embarrassing her, i am going to congratulate her too.”

with that said, i am also newly single.

my love story is over. i thought i wanted someone in the fitness industry but it turns out i actually do not. i dont want someone who feels as though theyre in a competition with me. i want to be with someone who is proud of me and supports me, even after the honeymoon is over. i want to be with someone who wants to see me succeed. i want to be with someone who says “HAHA, my girl kicked ALL YOUR ASSES!!!” not someone who makes sure there girl knows she still aint shit even after she tries her hardest. is that so much to ask for?

in my ex’s defense, i do believe he regrets having not thought before speaking. however, the words we say without consciously thinking are the words our subconscious mind IS thinking. I cant be loved the way i want to be loved by someone who thinks of me as a joke, even if its subconsciously. there is a lot of me that brings our insecurities in him, and a lot of him that brings out insecurities in me, but neither of us have a valid excuse to be so cruel.

so, i am writing this post in part to acknowledge these feelings. I want to honor that i am feeling them so they dont build up and cause me to explode, but i am choosing to move on. the beautiful thing about being human is every day we get to choose how we want to feel. I am choosing happy, even in a situation that would historically encourage me to choose sad. i am not going to lie down and die, i am not going to get into a pity party with myself and play lies in my head about how all men suck and no one will ever love me and how my boyfriend never loved me and i am not good enough and blah blah blah. instead i am going to hit PUBLISH, run a hot bath, watch some netflix, and go to bed.

tomorrow morning i teach Big Girl Boot Camp and then i have a few hair appointments. After that, the next 36 hours are 100% me time. i am going to spend them honoring myself and caring for ashley. I think i might get a massage, i am definitely going to read some personal development books, and i may also make a new quote collage for inspiration.

this will not be an excuse to fly off the handle. this will not be an excuse to gain weight. this will not be an excuse to spend the next week in bed. this will not be an excuse to never date again. this will be an excuse to grow and an excuse to love myself even more and dedicate even more time to self care and self love.

i showed up, i kicked ass, and i was PROUD. i am still PROUD. & if youre laughing at me for that, it doesnt make me any less proud. it makes you a fucking sociopath.

now, lets end this downer post on a positive note:

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