I Just Bought a Subscription to Pain

This morning I felt patently lousy. I had gone to bed hungry, too stubborn to shove any more calories down my throat for the day. The result was...unplesant. I woke weak, nauseous, and on top of everything, lacking a sense of balance.

I really hate my body.

Despite this, I managed to pull myself out of bed, shower, dress, by groceries and wash my clothes. In the middle of this, my Aunt Kathy called up with an offer.

I had called her earlier this week about the weight-limit debacle. In addition to calming me down, she offered advice as to my next step. I place a great deal of respect on her opinions. She's a black-sheep in the family much as I am now. She's sharp, tough, and a survivor. Recently she had gastric bypass surgery, and practically unrecognizable compared to her former self. If there is anyone on this earth to talk to about what to do in this situation, she would be the one.

One thing she suggested was to join a gym. My friends have suggested the same as well, although I've always thought the cost to outweigh the benefit. If this weren't enough, my constant travel and latent fear of being snickered at by others more fit than I can ever hope to become kept me away. To my surprise, Kathy experienced something similar in the months of exercise before her surgery. That is, of course, until a friend suggested "Try the YMCA, it's different at the Y."

When she called this morning, she invited me to join her on a workout session. Despite my weary condition this morning, I certainly wasn't going to let a money-grubbing plastic surgeon win. I packed my exercise outfit, and hit the road. Her friend was right, it is different. I wasn't out of place, no one snickered or sneered. She and I began stretching and hit the strength training machines.

It was obvious to me by the third machine my workouts can be much, much more effective here. I can program the systems for a weight loss regimen. I can target muscle groups in ways I never could at home. Here was a framework, one in which I could more easily and effectively reach my goal to shed 78lbs.

It came down to a simple axiom: You need the right tools for the right job.

Forty minutes later I was filling out the paperwork. Thanks to my health insurance, I get a $20 discount if I go to the Y 12 times a month. That's 3 times a week, or how often I already exercise. The $60-$40 monthly fee isn't difficult. I already planned to stop going out to lunch so often on my own dollar, more than making up for the membership fee. Worldwide locations will help to keep me on task. Even if I have to make due with the hotel fitness room, the fees will be more than paid by expensing my living expenses for the week. The best thing of course, is Kathy herself. The Y she attends is on my route to work, and having her with me will provide vital free advice and support. There'll be no slacking off around her.

I'm not terribly concerned about the gender issue. A family locker room provides all-gender access with showers and changing rooms behind locked doors. I doubt I'll use them anyways -- I'd rather change at shower at home. I curiously "forgot" to fill out any mention of gender on the membership forms (it's funny how often that works). Beyond that, it should be no more dangerous than a mall restroom.

Life threw me a roadblock last week, a bad one. When this happens, I'll rage, I'll cry, and I'll feel desperate and helpless. I could do little more than sob Friday night over the seeming impossibility of the task before me. In the end, however, it is only action that alleviates my feelings. And here in this little plastic card is my action.

I will not be defeated.

Update: I may not have to go to Thailand after all. There's a surgeon in Colorado that does SRS for $18k. This would cut ticket costs (more if I use my 40,000 frequent flier miles) and hotel hosts (points for a 4-star hotel, anyone?). A terse search indicates that this person is well respected and more importantly, suggested by my endocrinologist. Maybe I can get a small loan to make up the gap...

And that weight limit? 210lbs and willing to be flexible.