This morning I started a 60-day challenge at my Bikram studio. I’ve got 1 class down and 59 days to complete the remainder. I also weighed myself for the first time in months: 168.3.
How’s that for transparency? To be honest, I’ve been staring at these blurry photos, shot in my bathroom this morning bleery eyed before class, and debating whether or not this post crosses some silly line of over-sharing. It probably does. If my white belly bothers you, look away. I’m sure we’ll be back to crafts and baked goods soon.
Like most women, I’ve long had a love-hate affair with my figure. Lately, we are on good terms. I don’t mind that my weight is in the 160s or that my belly jiggles a bit when I fold in half like a “japanese ham sandwich.” My legs are strong from running. My shoulders still carry muscle from a dozen years of competitive swimming. My feet are the same gigantic size 11 they were when they stopped growing in 5th grade.
I’d love to tell you I’m doing this challenge because I expect to lose 20 pounds and have some sort of miraculous six pack to emerge from the pasty white mid-section above. I’d also like to have a 5-acre garden to feed unicorns on rainbow-filled days. The unicorns are scheduled to arrive far sooner, carrying George Clooney and a winning lottery ticket.
I will be posting how things are going once a week or so — including weight and flexibility changes. More than anything I want to conquer that ever-so-frustrating tree toe stand pose and show myself this is a challenge I am strong and dedicated enough to rock.