Don’t laugh. It’s a true story. (Okay, maybe you can laugh a little.) Ever since I had kids, it’s why I have despised to start a workout program after I have been away from working out for prolonged periods.
It starts out the same every time. I’m motivated, pumped even. I start my new regime and feel so sore. LOVE that feeling. (I know, I’m crazy.) A few weeks later, I notice some toning, inches melted, dress sizes dropped, and even some of the weight gone (sometimes not, since muscle weighs more than fat). Then it happens. I start comparing my old, flabby self to this newer version. And somehow I look worse. Yep, worse. But how can that be?!?!
Until I reach my end goal, I look worse than when I had all that flab and was a couch potato. Why? Because of the fluscle, people! Not to mention the extra, saggy skin that comes with the sudden loss of the fat that kept it perky and supple.
Fluscle = flab + muscle in the same general region.
Everyone has trouble spots. The areas that tighten, tone and get muscular first are not my trouble spots, making the flab in my troubled areas stand out like a sore thumb. They even appear bigger than before because of the skinnier counterparts surrounding them!
At least in my flabby former self, I was blissfully unaware of how much flab I actually had to begin with. It all melded perfectly together to make a smooth line. Flabby, but smooth and proportional. Now, I look lumpy in parts.
Saddlebags. Check. Lower stomach pooch. Check. Love handles. Check. Droopy bottom and saggy inner thigh skin. Check. Seemingly double roll on the bu-thigh (the area where your rear end and upper thigh meet)? Check. It was all there before – just unnoticed because the extra layer of fat actually blanketed over the entire area in perfect wedded union (covering the trouble spots). I might have had a bigger rear end, but it was perky and not droopy. See the 2 example drawings below, shwoing the before, intermediate and goal phase, all of which I assure you is drawn to scale.
So, there you have it. Until I get to my (almost) rock-hard self again, I am miserable in this intermediate phase. So forgive me if I stand there squeezing in my saddlebags in as I talk to you.