Seven Years

(Post 8 of 9)

I was with F for almost 7 years.

I stayed with him because I loved him. I stayed with him because I gave him my word and didn't want to be someone that went back on their word. I stayed with him because I didn't think I deserved more.

While writing about F, I also reflected and read over past entries about P and TexasBoy, the other two significant "relationships" of my life. Relationships is in quotations because we were never in actual relationships. I wanted to be with both of them, but they didn't want to be with me, not really be with me. They only enjoyed the sexual pleasure they received from me.

With P, with TexasBoy, with F, it was always the same...if I proved myself to them, they would want me; they would love me. I just had to try harder so they could see my worth. The outcome was always the same, they didn't want me and I ended up heartbroken.

F was an extreme case, but I do believe he loved me at one point and that's what scared him. In the beginning, things he said made it clear that he didn't think he deserved love, that he wouldn't have a happily ever after. And that made me want to show him even more that I loved him, that he had earned my love. And he just used it against me.

The more I excused and justified his behavior, the more I destroyed myself. I allowed him to destroy me. I wanted so much to be loved, to be accepted.

Towards the end with F, I had resigned myself to being alone. I would be locked into this toxic relationship with him because of my promise and the stupid tattoo. I was bound to him. He would never let me go. I still fear him reaching out, but I think I'm free from him.

For the last four years, I have been afraid to admit he was abusive; afraid to admit I was in an abusive relationship. I was so ashamed. But now, writing the words, letting this all out, gives me strength. I didn't deserve what he did to me. I didn't deserve to be threatened and made to feel like this.

When I started working out, I started to feel better about myself. Working out gave me a confidence I had lost a long time ago and I think that helped me be more defiant with him. I will never be thin, but I will be strong.

Global Pandemic

(Post 7 of 9)

When lockdown started, we got back together. Since we couldn't see each other, I did send pics to him. With the global pandemic, it was great for him because I had no reason not to obey. He let me go out for my runs, but other than that, I was home; just how he liked it. The problem arose when two months in, he did want to see me and I said no. We were in a pandemic. For my mom's sake, we were in a total lockdown; plus, I was high-risk too. He didn't like being rejected and I had to be punished again.

Throughout the year, every few months, he would check-in and get angry with me all over again.

As the year ended, I'm the one that reached out to him. Being home had taken its toll on me. My physical and mental health was suffering. I was alone. I was lonely. When I reached out to him, he took a different approach with me this time. He was calm, mature, understanding. He didn't lash out at me. He said he missed being with me. I'm the one that said it was a new year, we could start over, begin anew. I'm the one that promised to obey.

We started out slowly. He told me how much he wanted me and I wanted him too. I would close my eyes and see him. I could feel him inside of me. I was so lonely and he was the only one that could fulfill my need. He's the only one I thought about. I was his, I was always meant to be his.

He was smart about how he got me to start sending pics again. It was my idea. I sent the first one and then he asked for more...and more...and more. I was sending them daily. Did I still have the outfit he liked? A video was sent with that one. I was texting him daily, telling him how much I loved him; how happy he made me. I was his good girl again.

Until I wasn't. 

All I asked for was an acknowledgement. If I sent text or pic, especially if I sent a pic, I wanted a response, words of affirmation. When my texts were ignored, I didn't send the daily pic. In early February, this happened for a week so I stopped sending anything. He was angry and went off on me. I wasn't the same anymore, he said. I was falling back into the mood he didn't want to deal with. I was supposed to provide without question and accept what I was given. I had broken my promise.

This time I didn't reply, I didn't beg for forgiveness. I was tired. I was done.

Everything Changes

(Post 6 of 9)

So for two and a half years. we were on and off. He would be gone from my life for months at a time. When he was gone, I slowly started to rebuild my life.

I started focusing on parts of my life I could control. I was committed more than ever to my workouts and was going to the gym 5-6 times a week. I got more into planning & crafting and joined different groups. I was making new friends, new relationships.

But I always hid this part of my life. Even my closest friends didn't know.

I think Marisela had an inkling of what was going on, but she never said anything. She saw how he affected me when we went to New York. As much as I really liked New York, there was an undercurrent of sadness & anxiety the entire time we were there. He was mad at me for going and ignored all my texts while I was there. He had initially given me permission to go, but as the week approached, it became, "Who are you going to see? Who's there that you want to fuck?"

It's funny how much time he spent telling me no one else would want me and trying to brand me so no one else would want me, but then turn around and constantly accuse me of fucking someone else.

I was so ashamed. I let him do this to me. I walked right into it. I kept justifying what he was doing. He had been cheated on so of course he would have trust issues, he doesn't really want to hurt me, he really wants me otherwise why would he spend all this time on me.

In late 2018, I did end up telling my work wife about him and showed her the tattoo. It's on the side of my lower back so I just have to lift my shirt. I feel marked by the tattoo. How can I ever be with someone else having this on my body? Work wife agrees that I should look into covering it up or having it removed. She tries to remind me not to go back to him, but I've even lied to her. I've been back with him since I told her about him.

He has a sixth sense or something because he always knows when I'm happy; when I'm content with life and things are going well. That's when he'll reach out and disrupt my life. Regardless of the outcome, whether I let him back into my life or he gets angry because I still refuse to obey, however briefly he's back, it always sends my life into a tailspin.

Defiance

(Post 5 of 9)

That's what he would tell me. He would ask me if I remembered how we were in the beginning, how happy I was, how happy we were and when I would reply yes, he'd tell me it was because I obeyed back then. Back then, I behaved how he wanted me to, I did what he wanted, I satisfied him and in return, he gave me what I wanted. But now I was difficult; I disobeyed him. I was more trouble than what I was worth. I didn't give him what he wanted so he didn't give me what I wanted.

For the last two and a half years, we've been on and off. Somehow, I became defiant; refusing to do the things he wanted. He would get so mad. I wouldn't hear from him for months and when he would reach out, it was always the same.

"Who are you with? Who have you been sleeping with?"

His texts were always accusatory. I must have been sleeping with someone else. If I just admitted it, he would forgive me.

My answer was always the same. "No one." He would never believe me.

He'd want me to send pics or videos and I started refusing. I told him I wouldn't until he came to see me, but he wouldn't. I had to prove I was worthy of his attention, so he would refuse to see me. He'd say I shouldn't want to see him because I still needed to be punished; I hadn't been forgiven and I would not like my punishment. We would argue and the cycle would repeat.

For months, I wouldn't hear from him.

At first, I would still try to follow his rules, like my curfew. I was honor bound to him. I had made promises to him and I couldn't break them; I had given him my word. I had promised I would never be with anyone else. Deep inside I still had hope he would see how much I really loved him. I put up with all his threats and said I would take his punishment. Even though he constantly threatened to punish me, he wouldn't come to see me, so to me, it meant that he didn't really want to hit me; that's why he stayed away from me, he did care about me and didn't want to hurt me.

I was so messed up.

Sometimes, when he'd come back, he would be sweet; he would make promises for a new beginning and I would fall back into him. I still refused to send pics/videos, but I would follow all of his rules and demands. He would accept it at first, thinking I would start sending them eventually, but when I wouldn't, he'd get angry. Even before all of this, I didn't like sending them anymore. They didn't do anything for me. I was bored and tired of doing them day after day. What I wanted was for him to fuck me. He said I should be happy he wanted to get off to my videos instead of watching porn.

The End Was Only The Beginning

(Post 4 of 9)

Four and half years in, he said he was done with me. I had committed the ultimate betrayal. I prioritized another man over him.

One of my friends from middle school was getting married and I was invited to the wedding. It meant a lot to me and I had told F when I got the invite and kept reminding him about it. Initially, he had said I could attend, but as the wedding date approached, he wasn't so sure anymore. I couldn't understand why he wouldn't let me go. My friend is gay. He was marrying another man. Aside from family, most of the attendees were going to be gay men. I wasn't going to cheat on him with a gay man.

The week of the wedding, he put his foot down and said I couldn't go. I kept pleading and it would just anger him. So I lied. The day of the wedding, I told him I was at the gym when I was getting my hair done. Before I left the house, I sent him a quick boob shot to tie him over. While I was on the train, he wanted to see more, so I told him I wasn't feeling good and in bed. He knew I was lying. He wanted a pic and I wouldn't send him one. I was sitting in the church when he sent the last message calling me a bunch of names and saying he knew I was at the wedding. I ignored him for the rest of the night, but I was miserable inside.

The next day I admitted to going to the wedding. I didn't have anything to lose at that point. Admitting it just made things worse and while he said he was done with me, he wasn't. No, when he "broke up" with me is when everything got worse.

To be honest, it's not like I took the break up well. I cried and begged him not to leave me. I told him I would be good. I would obey. I tried explaining how much it meant to me to go to my friend's wedding. I agreed that I shouldn't have lied to him.

He double downed on all the rules. Constant check-ins. I wasn't allowed to go anywhere besides work, the gym, or family-related. He once gave me permission to go to my cousin's house in Fontana, but I had to check-in once an hour and send a naked pic each time. Do you know how embarrassing it was to have to go to the bathroom every hour in order to text him a naked pic?

I had to send him naked videos every night. I still had a curfew and the video had to be sent within an hour of getting home. He would get angry if I took too long with the video. Every morning, when I woke up I had to immediately text him a morning greeting and tell him how much I loved him.

He would reiterate that I belonged to him. He owned me and since I broke the rules, I deserved to be punished. I had to submit to be punished. He never hit me. He would just threaten to hit me. The more I "messed up," the more he threatened. If I even thought about leaving him, he threatened me. He said he would kill whomever I left him for and that he would beat me so bad I would wish he killed me. Other times he did threaten to kill me if I left.

And it was all my fault. If I had been a good girl, if I had obeyed, we would still be happy; I would still feel special and loved. His behavior was a direct result of my behavior. I was supposed to be his solace, his stress relief; I was supposed to please him.

Sex

(Post 3 of 9)

F was always very clear with me. The reason he made me his was that he liked how I fucked him. Our sexual connection was the driving force for his control and jealousy. He said he should have fucked me all those years ago. He regretted not being my first, but he was going to be my last.

As I think about it, F's love language is touch and mine is quality time. Our first two years together, we spent a lot of time together, we had a lot of sex. Despite our busy schedules, we would see each other once or twice a week. We created our own little bubble and fed into each other's love languages.

It also helped that I was completely submissive to him. I'm not talking about "Fifty Shades..." here. He was the man and I was the woman. I didn't raise my voice, I didn't talk back, I did what he wanted me to do. When texting, he insisted on proper sentences; I couldn't just reply, "yes," it had to be a complete sentence. I wore sexy clothes for him. He wanted me in thongs, so I bought thongs. He didn't like "cheeky" underwear, he wanted to see my ass. You know how they say, "A lady in the streets, a freak in the bedroom?" That's how I was to conduct myself with him.

About two and a half years into our relationship, we had our first break-up. He accused me of cheating. We both played a location-based game. I had introduced him to it and helped get him started. I was very active in the game and my username got me a lot of attention, not only because I was clearly a female, but everyone always assumed I got high too. I was really into the game and I was good. The game had a chat and as I mentioned, I got a lot of attention. Most of the time, I ignored the messages because they were teasing about getting high. As I progressed in the game, I would get messages from the opposing team members trying to get me to switch sides. F witnessed one of the exchanges and immediately texted me and accused me of flirting, saying he realized why I liked the game so much. He accused me of cheating and said it was over; he didn't answer my texts for days. Finally, a week later, he text me saying he had dreamt I was on my knees, naked and begging for his forgiveness. To take me back, I had to film myself just like his dream and send it to him. I did it. And then he still made me beg for forgiveness the next time we saw each other. As punishment, he didn't "make love" to me, he fucked me like we were in a porn movie. I felt completely humiliated and debased and I let him do it to me.

There was one other time he was angry with me. I really don't remember why he was angry; what I had done, but when we had sex, I thought we were OK. We weren't. When we had finished, I went to kiss him and he pulled away from me. The look of disgust on his face was a dagger to my heart. He had basically just angry fucked me. We were silent in the car and he still didn't kiss me when he dropped me off at home. That day was worse than the previous time when he punished me with sex.

Don't ask me why I stayed with him after both of those experiences.

I loved him. I submitted to him. Sex was fun and enjoyable for us. Sex was how we connected, both during and after. Sex was how I got into his heart.

He never said he loved me, but I felt it. And I knew when I got too close. That's when he started retreating from me. All of a sudden, it would be months without sex and the fighting would just get worse.

He made more and more demands. I had a curfew. At first, it was under the guise of his worrying about me being on the bus/train late at night, but it was really about control. He had stupid T-Mobile and it was always getting me into trouble. He would start yelling that I wasn't home or got home past my curfew because he wouldn't get my text on time. I'd have to send him the screenshot of my side to prove the time I sent it. Lyft got me into trouble too. For some reason, the Lyft app doesn't show my correct address in my ride history. It will always shows a random 5-digit house number that doesn't even exist.

He never wanted to let me go out. He wanted me to stay at home. I stopped drinking alcohol because he didn't like it. I never hid anything about my life and he knew all my stories. He knew the "Lola" stories from when I was single and we weren't even talking and he would throw them in my face. I couldn't even drink at family parties without him getting upset, so I just stopped drinking.

We'd fight because I wanted to see him more, because I wanted our relationship to move forward. He'd promise to change, to do the things I wanted. One time, he had been out drinking with his friends, and he brought up having a baby. It was shocking to me because, not only was he saying this to me drunk, but he had made it clear he didn't want kids. That's why I was on birth control, so there would be no accidents. I was so conflicted. I always wanted to be a mom, but not like this. I wanted a family and that's not what he wanted. He wanted to knock me up in order to control me. Having his baby was the ultimate form of ownership, as he saw it. His words, "no other man will want you with a kid."

When I said no to the baby, he branded me in a different way. He made me get his name tattooed on my body. Again, so no one else would want me. Only one person knew about it and I made it seem like it was a mutual decision. He was the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with so it was OK. I didn't tell her he made me get it. I didn't tell her that he wouldn't do the same for me. No, I tried to be happy about it. It was just another way to prove my love. About a year after, he threw it in my face; said it wasn't what he wanted. He also said he wanted me to get a second tattoo, in a more private area, to really brand me as his. Fortunately, I never agreed to that one.

When he stopped having sex with me, I knew there were others. He couldn't go that long without having sex. F never committed to being faithful to me. I was supposed to be faithful to him. Those first few years, I know he was faithful to me. When he stopped fucking me, I knew he was getting it elsewhere. One time I had let him know I was home and the reply text wasn't for me. The tone was different, the words were different. Honestly, it was a sweet text and it had been so long since he had been like that with me, so I knew it wasn't meant for me. I didn't reply and he knew straightaway he had messed up. He tried to say that he was having drinks with a friend and that friend had used his phone to send his gf a message and sent it to me by mistake. Why would I ever believe him? He was the most paranoid and private person I knew. He would never allow anyone to use his cell phone. By the end of the night, he was angry at me because I didn't believe him.

He only ever admitted to having sex with someone else once. He told me he felt guilty, like he cheated on me, which in his eyes, he hadn't because he was allowed to have sex with whomever he wanted. I was the one that had to be committed and faithful to him. We hadn't had sex in over a year when he confessed to his only "transgression," so we'd already been together four years.

Ups and Downs

(Post 2 of 9)

Once I was no longer the board president and my commitments to Variety were scaled back, the issues in our relationship became bigger. He became more controlling. It turned out he always had an issue with my activities. He wanted me home. If I wanted to go out, I had to ask for permission. My new job was on the west side and my commute was longer. He didn't like that. The commute wasn't easy either. Sometimes it took me 3 hours to get home in rush hour traffic from the west side. Fortunately a few months after I started over there, the new train line opened and it cut my commute time in half.

He added new rules to our relationship. Not only did I have to ask for permission to go out, I had to let him know when I left the house, when I arrived at work, when I left work, when I got home, etc. etc.

Our fights were bigger. I was accused of cheating. I couldn't really go out with male friends, unless they were gay and even then, he'd be suspicious. I was accused of trying to trap him with a baby so I had to go on birth control. Any little thing set him off. And I justified everything. I told myself I just had to show him that I wasn't like his ex; I wouldn't cheat on him. I made promises to him, promises binding myself to him to prove I loved him. I told myself that if I did what he wanted and showed him how much I loved him, he would love me back.

Instead, I just lost more and more of myself.

When we were together, I felt so special. He forced me to overcome my physical insecurities. He didn't care if I was insecure about my body, he wanted it. It turned him on to see me naked. He took pleasure in my body. I could be free with him.

I'm not going to lie, sex with F was great. I loved going down on him and he knew how to fuck. I have always enjoyed sex and been very open about my sexuality; I am a sexual being and he & I were very sexually compatible. He didn't hesitate to flip me, spread me; I'd be on top, he'd be behind me. He could get rough, but I liked it. He didn't hesitate to fuck me if I was on my period. We had oops moments and it was OK. He "trained" me to his likes. I was there to please him and he, in turn, pleased me.

My favorite moments were post-sex, when we would lie together and just talk. He was so sweet and gentle in those moments. When we were together, the world outside did not exist; it was just the two of us.

They're Never Like That In The Beginning

(Post 1 of 9)

When we started seeing each other, he admitted he thought we would just be a casual summer fling. No matter how many times I told him I wasn't seeing anyone else and that I didn't want to see anyone else, he would always tell me to make sure a couple of days had passed after being with another guy before I'd be with him. After a few months and lots of reassurance, he was satisfied I wasn't seeing anyone else and he claimed me. He said I belonged to him and only him. He cemented his "ownership" of me with sexual activities I had never done before and was only allowed to do with him.

I thought I'd walked into our relationship with eyes wide open. I knew him. I knew what he was like. It had been ten years since the last time we saw each other, but I knew what I was walking into. Did I think we would have a serious relationship? Probably not. I had always wanted to have sex with him; he was the first man I was ever sexually attracted to, remember... In fact, the first time we saw each other after all those years, we had sex. I was on my period, but he didn't care. He fucked me, anyway. And that was one of the ways he claimed me. After fucking me while on my period, he said, "Now you're mine."

The signs were there, but I still thought he had changed. While we hadn't spoken in ten years, we had mutual friends so I knew what he was up to. I knew he had had a serious girlfriend and they were living together. And I knew she had him on lockdown. My friend and I would laugh and laugh about how the tables had turned. They were together for years and she ended up cheating on him.

When we started seeing each other, it had been a couple of years since that relationship ended. He was distrustful of women and wasn't looking to settle down into a relationship, which is why he would always say to give it a couple of days before I was with him after being with another guy. In the beginning, there was no exclusivity. Once he realized we were more than just a casual summer fling, he imposed rules.

Primarily, I was to be faithful and committed to him. I was to be submissive to him.

And yes, I agreed.

You have to understand what my life was like when our relationship began. I was three months into being the board president of YV and dealing with everything that came with it. Yes, I had already spent 4 years on the board and had held officer positions, but now, it really was on me; now I was really in charge. I had more commitments to Variety as well. I had a lot on my plate. My professional life was overwhelming. Monthly board meetings for YV and Variety; I had also taken on YV International. I worked closely with the organizations Variety/YV funded, lots of events, I worked every Variety event, traveled for Variety. All of my vacation time at work went to Variety. For the first two years of our relationship, my calendar was YV/Variety.

So being in charge in my professional life was overwhelming and it felt so good to give that up in my personal life. It brought balance to my life.

We were so happy in those first two years. It's not like we didn't fight. Issues arose, but we worked through them. He never said the words, but I felt loved. I was happy. He said no one had ever made him feel the way I did. We were happy. We even talked about moving in together. I had brought it up first and he wasn't into the idea. He liked having his own space. Months later, he brought it up and we agreed to wait until I returned from Paris, but when I returned, the idea went off the table.

Things had started to change. The dynamic was different now. I was no longer president of YV. As the months of my presidency had dwindled down, he had become more insistent. When was I going to stop attending so many events. After my presidency, I moved into the advisory board. I was tired and needed a break. My VP was the new board president and we had talked about my advisory role. I told him I would always be there for him. He could call or e-mail me anytime, and if he really needed me at an event, I would be there, but I wasn't going to attend the meetings or all the events. He understood. He was my VP so he knew everything I went through with Variety and the toll it took on me.

My professional life had also taken another hit when I was laid off from work. I took unemployment as a nice break. It's not like I actually took a break because I was still president of YV and volunteering more for Variety, this time in the office. Once my unemployment run out, I was put on the Variety payroll part-time. Fortunately, right before Paris, I started working full time in my current position. Starting that full time job led to a hugely diminished role with Variety.

To recap, the first two years of my relationship with F, my professional life was extremely busy and I was in charge of a lot of things so being submissive to him in my personal life brought a much needed balance to my life.

Stuck

It's been hard. The pandemic has been hard for a lot of people. I was fortunate, privileged that getting furloughed didn't impact me as much as others. I have a roof over my head that is paid off, my sister is a lawyer and bought the bulk of the groceries, and my unemployment/savings covered my monthly bills, including the house utilities, while still allowing me to splurge on crafty items. I was also able to buy bulk groceries to keep my mom stocked.

Mentally and physically it was a different story. If you know me well, then you know I have a difficult and complicated relationship with my family. The lockdown forced us to interact and speak to one another. Pre-lockdown, I pretty much just slept here. A typical weekday had me leaving for work before anyone else got up (before 6am and twice a week before 5am) and I wouldn't get home until 10 or 11 at night. During weekends, if I didn't have training/gym, I usually had crafty events to attend, so I still left the house early and came back late evening.

But with lockdown, I was here all day, every day. Even with not working, I didn't have an issue keeping myself busy. Growing up, my mom was strict with me, even firing nannies for suggesting she let me go outside and play with other kids on the block. So I learned early on how to entertain myself. My brother was working from home and he didn't do well with the lockdown. He drove us crazy rearranging the house. My sister finally put a stop to it when he was moving things around the kitchen that didn't make it easy for mom at all and it delayed dinner. He sulked for a couple of days, but then focused on other parts of the house. When he went in on my craft stuff, I had a meltdown and locked myself away in my room and I'm still here.

I went from working out 5-6 days a week to nothing. I tried at-home workouts, but then my brother took over the backyard. Plus, they didn't feel the same. My walks at the park didn't do anything for me either, so I started running. As hard as it was, it was exhilarating and almost comparable to my gym workouts. But my hips did not enjoy them and even with post-run stretching, I would still limp for the almost mile walk home and sitting down/standing was painful. I started applying multiple salon pas patches to my hips and lower back just to get through a run. After the meltdown with my brother and locking myself away, I stopped running and all physical activity.

I was supposed to go back to work last September, but it didn't happen. Then it was January, and nope, not yet. I'm still not back to work. Others are, but without a solid release schedule and box office grosses, they can't bring everyone back, so I am still stuck at home. As each day passes and there is no word, I fall deeper into despair. I wanted to go back to work and let my finances stabilize, build my savings back up a little before switching jobs, but it looks like I should start looking for a new job now. I am so disillusioned with my boss and company that I just don't think I can go back there. I honestly just wish they would let me go and make things easy. That way they would also have to pay out my accrued vacation and when COVID hit, I was at 139 hours. A nice chunk to add to my savings.

Once I was fully vaccinated, my plan was to start going to the gym. I have gone, but am struggling to keep going. I don't have the motivation to do anything. I want to, but I can't get myself up to do it. I'm stuck.

End of the Year Workout Recap

I intended to use my blog as a way to keep me accountable with my workouts and stuff, but every time I thought about posting, it just felt like I was writing the same thing over and over again and that's just boring. So as 2016 comes to an end, let me bring you up to speed on the last 3 months.

I'm still working with  my trainer and doing my workouts 3 days a week. When I was on my own, I usually just worked on the machines, but my trainer encouraged me to do more with the free weights like we do in our sessions. That meant venturing over to the other side of the gym where the large weights are in order to get the free weights and it was a bit intimidating at first. But I noticed that adding the free weights to my workouts made them different, better, so now it's just annoying when I can't find the weights I need. When I workout out at the gym by my house, it's even worse trying to locate them and I actually have to walk around that entire area cuz they really don't put anything back...ugh.

In addition to doing more with the free weights, I've also added more stretching exercises. I need them more for my arms and shoulders than my legs. I don't particularly like the gym by my house, but I do like my workouts there because I'm not rushed and can take my time and do extra stretching exercises. Overall, I like the atmosphere of my work gym (it doesn't feel like your stereotypical gym), but I think my workouts are better at my home gym. And that's really only because at my work gym I'm rushing there after work and I usually have just enough time to change before my training session. And then I'm rushing to catch the train home. Missing a train and waiting for the next one can mean having to wait 30 or more minutes for my last bus home. :(  So, it becomes very stressful and sometimes I've had to cut my time on the elliptical if I stayed at work later than usual. Whereas, when I do my workouts at my home gym, it's on a Saturday or a day off from work, so I go earlier in the day and have all the time in the world to stretch out and even catch my breath at the end of my workout because I'm not having to rush home.

So it's winter now and it gets darker earlier and the bf worries about me being on the train and bus late. That's why I'm always rushing to catch the train after my workout. He'd prefer me to be home by 9pm. I get it. Everyone always wonders how I can be out late at night on the train. Every one wonders about my safety and I've always brushed everyone else off. Bur the bf, well, that's another story. So because of this, I'm not taking Zumba on Tuesday's anymore. He started having an issue with it since class didn't end until 9pm and sometimes I missed the bus and had to take a Lyft home. So it was multiple issues: 1) getting home late, 2) if I came on the bus, walking home late in the dark, and/or 3) if I missed the bus and had to take a Lyft, my increased spending on Lyfts. So no more Zumba on Tuesdays. I really do miss the class. I felt like I was finally finding my groove. While there were still steps I couldn't do, I had found my own ways, I really liked that instructor too. The Zumba classes at my work gym are friggin' lame. I've watched the classes on MWF when I'm doing my workouts and they totally suck. On Tuesdays now, I just do 30 minutes of cardio on the treadmill. Yup, my trainer still bugs me about the treadmill, so I do it on Tuesdays and have been working on increasing the incline level.

I'm still doing Kickbox Cardio on Thursdays. It's killer and there were a couple of classes where I felt like I was going to die. Usually we do arms first and then legs, but one class she reversed it and oh man, she even knew that was a mistake. She kept saying that it raised our heart rates too high too quickly. It sure did. I thought my heart was going to jump out of my chest! She keeps telling us we're her toughest and best class. Maybe she says that to all her classes, but I think we're pretty badass. I keep making little goal lines for myself in class. First, it was getting through the first 45 minutes without taking a break. You can of course stop and get water if you need to, but she doesn't officially give us a break until 45 minutes in; it's 5 minutes of warm up and 40 minutes of cardio. After a few classes, I was able to do the full 45 without a break. My next goal involved the jumping jacks. There are 3 times when we do jumping jacks. The first time, you take four steps forward doing a move and then do the jumping jacks back the four steps. If you need to, you can do low impact jumping jacks, which is basically just taking side steps back. So at first, I would sometimes need to do the low impact jumping jacks. The second time we do jumping jacks, it's double-jumping jacks. At first I couldn't figure out how the whole double thing worked, but I figured it out. The third time is just straight jumping jacks when we go from legs back to arms.

So I stopped doing the low impact jumping jacks and then I figured out how to do the double jumping jacks and finally, I got through all 3 sets without stopping. But the first time I did all 3 sets of jumping jacks, it took its toll. By the time we got to the squats, I was done. So now my next goal is for my body to be able to do the 3 sets of jumping jacks without killing me for the rest of the class.

All in all, I love Kickbox Cardio and hate missing it. Our instructor is tough, but very supportive and encouraging.  :)

Last week was a little tough. I had Friday and Monday off for Christmas so I did my workouts those 2 days at my home gym. On Friday, I jumped on the elliptical and my knee was bothering me. I got through 5 minutes before I finally switched to the treadmill. Then on Monday, my knee still bothered me a bit, though not as much as Friday, so I did the treadmill again; I didn't want to risk anything. Tuesday was regular treadmill day, so Wednesday I was back on the elliptical. My knee wasn't bothering me, but my legs were heavy and tight. I had to stop several times and I barely made it to a mile in 15 minutes. I just couldn't go on and got off the elliptical. I didn't understand what was wrong. I missed Kickbox Cardio on Thursday because of work so yesterday (Friday), I went to my home gym thinking they had an afternoon Kickbox Cardio class, but I misread the class schedule and cancellations on the app. It was actually Zumba and it was cancelled. :(

I didn't have my workbook for my regular workout so I just jumped on the elliptical to do 30 minutes of cardio. I was worried because of Wednesday, but also I had walked almost 2 miles earlier taking out a big multi-layered smurf field and my feet were already hurting. I almost hadn't gone to the gym because of it. I tried to go at a slow pace, but I don't know if my legs were just too loose or if it was the machine, but I ended up going at a fast pace. So much so that I did a mile in 13 minutes and ended up doing 2 miles in 26 minutes - a record for me. Thanksgiving week I really pushed myself and ended up doing 2 miles in 27 minutes the day after Thanksgiving. I haven't tried for that pace since, though, aim for the 2 miles in the 30 minutes. So now, yesterday, I hit a new record of 2 miles in 26 minutes considering my feet hurt from earlier in the day. I did pause a couple of times to shake out my legs and still I hit it in 26 minutes and ended up doing 2.35 miles in the 30 minutes, My legs were jelly afterwards though. I was exhausted, and yet, I still walked a little out of my way home in order to do some fielding in Ingress. :)

Today, I went to the gym early to do my workout and once again I was going at a faster pace on the elliptical. I did the 2 miles in 27 minutes and ended my 3o minutes at 2.25 miles. I guess whatever was wrong earlier in the week is OK now.

So with all my workouts and Kickbox Cardio, there hadn't been a change on the scale since my doctor's appointment at the end of September. I know it's just a number and isn't the end all, but it was starting to get me down. I tried to focus on the fact that I wasn't gaining weight, but I couldn't figure out why I wasn't losing weight. My blood glucose was consistent. The bf and I have had some issues, but I've been working on not letting it stress me out. The bf said I wasn't going to lose weight even if I went to the gym if I kept eating crap food, but I don't. I treat myself once a week, but it's not junk food; it's actually protein that I need for my workouts. ;)

The number of the scale wasn't going down, but I could see the changes in my body. I'm in between sizes and have bought clothes a size smaller than usual. My clothes fit differently. I feel different. I've always said I'm oddly shaped. While I've always felt my legs were my best asset, I was cognizant of that fact that I didn't have hips. I was just a straight line when it came to my legs. So I've never felt very feminine. I wasn't curvy, I was just fat. But now, I can see hips. I have curves. My midsection is flatter. I'm still fat (deceptively fat, remember?), but it's OK. I feel more feminine.

The last couple of weeks, though, the scale has finally gone down another 6 pounds, so since the end of May, I have now lost 31 lbs. Still have a ways to go, but I know I'm never going to be super thin. It's just not me. I like being fuller.

What really matters is that I feel great after my workouts. I may be tired or sore, but if I don't workout, my body feels worse. Whenever I don't feel so good and think I'll just go home, I force myself to the gym and I feel a hundred times better. When I miss a workout, it affects me negatively for the rest of the week. 

Who would've thought I would ever feel that way about the gym?!?!