Since quitting boxing 2 months ago, I’ve lost 10-12lbs (8lbs currently, I’m still recovering from Canadian Thanksgiving, oops). Partly because I’m training less, so I’m less hungry and am eating less. Partly because of a morbid fear of losing my physique, so I’ve been careful with my food. Partly because of two doctors appointments which scared me into realizing I’m at the age where health can no longer be taken for granted and it’s a matter of time and discipline (nutrition and exercise) before my mother’s genetics catch up to me. Partly because of work stress so bad, eating made me nauseous. Point is, I’ve lost a lot of weight, and the general consensus (other than Beaut who complained about my flat(ter) ass) is that I look fab. For the first time in my life, I’ve been called a skinny bitch, which made me so happy.
I’ve been a little worried about falling back into my neurotic/borderline eating disorder ways of the past. At Thanksgiving, one of my cousins cautioned me that I seemed awfully concerned about remaining slender. She relaxed a bit when she observed my usual capacity to eat disturbing quantities of corn bread and apple pie and my subsequent complaining of foodbabies. But I am not gonna lie, I’ve been overly preoccupied about my seeming inability to shift the Thanksgiving weight, and my newfound cravings and appetite. What can I say? I like being a skinny bitch. I’ve never been one. I like getting all these compliments. I am vain.
This past week, I finally returned to Coach: the deal when I quit boxing was that I’d continue with his weightlifting & conditioning classes twice a week. Perfect, really – I’d continue with some of the workouts that had given me the physique I adored, see my friends and I’d still bask in the comfort of Coach’s zany personality. However, during the past two months, with everything going on (Labor Day weekend, Thanksgiving, other work commitments), I’ve only managed a very sporadic attendance. This week marked my renewed commitment to consistent training.
On Workout 1 this week, Coach greeted me with a hug, and then a cry of dismay,
Vanilla! Your booty! Its GONE! Why Vanilla, Why???? It was such a work of art, my pride and joy, promotional material for my gym. Now, you better not tell anyone that I am your Coach. This is terrible. We have to fix this.
On Workout 2 this week, Coach designed a killer circuit to end the class. 5 rounds/16 minutes (whichever came first) of:
- 20 weighted lunges (25lbs plate for the girls, 45lbs plate for the boys)
- 15 burpees
- 8 pullups
The girls were allowed an elastic for the pullups. Coach insisted I take one of the less resistant elastics, because, “you are a skinny bitch, you have nothing to lift. What do you weigh now, a $1.50? Pocket change!” Hmmph.
I was the only one who almost completed the 5 rounds withing 16 minutes (I finished my last 3 pullups right after the bell). The guys made it to their 5th set of lunges, and the girls were almost done their 4th round. I had done really really well! As we sat in silence, heavy breathing, two of the boys congratulated me for whooping their asses. Coach interrupted them with, “yes, well, that is because she no longer has any junk in her trunk. Its pretty easy to move around when you aren’t carrying anything.”
If I was worried about developing an unhealthy obsession with being thin, Coach certainly has imposed a different narrative. One based on athletic performance and healthy curves. I suppose that is why his nickname is Dr. Booté.