Hello! Here we are for out monthly update, and happy thanksgiving to all of my fellow Americans. I can’t believe a few things here:
- My dog is still alive. (she has cancer yay, 90 days post op!)
- My other dog is still alive. (he’ll be 16 this week whaat)
- It’s fucking the end of November.
- I skipped over decorating for Thanksgiving and skipped right to the Christmas decorations
- I’m capable of (and that I even care about) decorating a house in the midst of my chaotic life
Exciting stuff, I tell you. So.. Facebook memories decided to show me a super horrific picture of me Saturday. It was so bad, that I actually went to the gym for the Saturday WOD instead of going straight to shopping instead. It was a tough sell, but it was a bad picture. I then pestered Tom repeatedly to take some good pictures of me so that I could create what you will see below. I’m sure I was less than thrilled when he sent me the good picture, but now that I have my little timeline collage put together, it all worked out. I am capable of making far more flattering faces, but apparently he didn’t think those were picture-worthy. Thanks, Tom!
Here we go.
Left Photo. First starting CrossFit. I remember hating the picture. Look how fucking ginormous I am. My ass, my arms, my stomach, seriously what the fuck. Look at my clunky tennis shoes, good God, fat lady. Get your shit together.
Middle photo. What you can’t see is that there are like, 2 15lb plates on that lady bar. That puts that weight at a whopping 65 lbs, I know right?! 65lbs for me is laughable now. I can’t even tell you what I do with 65 lbs now. Nothing..? I usually skip right to 95, but that’s cool. 65 lbs on the bar, it is. And I look like I’m riding the struggle bus, hard. And what am I doing, deadlifting?? Seriously, I’m deadlifting 65 lbs here. Great job, lady. Crushing those 65lb deadlifts.
Right photo. I’m getting ready to run my 100m run in our partner relay. Yes, I ran like, 6 times on Saturday! Not usual, not common, but it was the only thing between getting and not getting that red-lettered RX on the board, so I sucked it up. (and my feet have been suffering since, so ridiculous.) And when I say run, I mean like, slow jog. People lapped me several times. Clearly I cared. I’m probably yelling at my teammates here, cheering them on, looking all tough and shit. I imagine this is likely the face I make on a regular basis when I’m out in public. Lady your kid is screaming, what the fuck. Hands on the hips, pissed about something, and looking rather formidable. Or ready to stomp on someone. Or ready to say something inappropriate. So feminine! Such a lady.
On the left, size XL shirt, size XL pants. Giant arms, giant face, giant ass. Belly that went for miles. Entirely miserable. Wondering if I’d ever be good at something. Pretending to be happy. I probably bent over like that thinking it would conceal something on my body. Nope.
Middle. Same. XL everything. Calves so big my socks slouched down. Probably left rings around my ankles.
Right. Size Small t-shirt. Size 10 lululemon. I could wear size 8, but I have too many size 10s I need to wear out. I’m thrilled the size Small shirt was comfortable enough to wear that day.
