Progress

Another seven sessions will be behind me, and at least another seven are ahead. I have been going to see a personal trainer once a week at the rec center. This involves me and a just twenty-something young woman who exercises professionally on top of her just twenty-something metabolism in a room of mirrors. It is a form of hell. I exercise while watching sweat pour out of every wrinkle and roll of fat. Yes, I can watch my chins perspire. I both hate myself and feel great satisfaction with me simultaneously. I like that I can see progress not in terms of the actual reduction in said fat rolls, but in the incremental changes taking place. I can lunge across the room holding 8 lb weights in each hand twice then do squats without crying. I can balance on the bose and do push up after push up. One day I will see these incremental changes translate into fitting in my old clothes. In the meantime, I am taking my sessions seven at a time.... and moving to twice a week.