P90X

Numbers, schmumbers.... right?  Wrong.

Especially when everyone and their dog tells you going into chemo that you'll "probably lose some weight", "try to keep the food down", "your appetite will decrease..." etc.

Just like how they say your hair will all fall out.

I guess I'm just a backwards case of Hodgkin's because I've piled on over 15 lbs during chemo and still have probably around half of my hair.

I'm not complaining about my hair, this is more the story that I'll be sharing with you of how I am going to try to lose those 15 lbs that latched onto me like a fat kid onto free strawberry-glaze waffles.

I had chemo again a couple days ago--Wednesday-to be specific, and have been sleeping ever since.  I woke up this morning feeling pretty good.  Pretty fat, but pretty good.  So I decided, what the heck?  Why wait to work on these pesky pounds?  I have to wait for everything else throughout this darn chemo process.  I'm not going to wait to work on my mid-section.

If only it were as simple as that.

I popped in the P90X DVD and started off with the first workouts.  Pushups, after pushups, after pushups...  And this dang thing is an HOUR long!  Of course, he's got this cute little Russian chick in the video.  You know her.... the one, who, as he goes around the room asking who will do how many reps, she outdoes everyone by one.  Yep.  I've been that chick, so I think, okay... I'm still doing chemo... I can probably do about 75% of what she's doing.

WRONG.

Twenty minutes into the program and I'm laying face down on the floor, my butt straight up, gasping for air, and silently cursing Mr. Peppy-Man on my screen.  I was seeing stars, holding down my dinner from last night.... ugh... it was all there...

"....c'mon you can do one more... look at me!  I set my goal at fifteen, but I'm going to PUSH through it and do twenty instead..."

So I manned-up for the next twenty minutes and was surviving alright, until he explained that everything we'd just done--we're going to do it again.  Kill me.

Meanwhile, miss cool chick is still pounding it out, looking nice and sweaty and I swear I can SEE the pounds just sliding from her skin.  Meanwhile I'm sprawled out all over the floor as my husband walks in the door, turning his head quickly so I can't see him smiling.

I saw it.

To sum it up.  I am NOT in as good of physical shape as I was when I left Ames five months ago.  I'm unfortunately not even about half.

When I'd finished my workout, I went and soaked in the ice cold tub, garbage can beside me (just in case), and my dear husband mixed me up a protein shake to drink in the tub while I shed some tears, mourning my current psychical state.

The best words he could have said came out of his mouth while I was feeling defeated and trying to hold the puke back.... "babe, I still think you're sexy."

The tears came a little bit quicker then.  There's something about looking and feeling your absolute worst and having your spouse look at you and say, "Hey, it's okay... I still love you just how you are."

So the gist of the post is this: losing weight is hard, P90X is my poison of choice, and I WILL be twenty pounds lighter by Thanksgiving.  Or at the very worse, by Christmas.  And I'll have my handsome strong husband to prod me along at some times, and other times, drop me a protein shake while I'm bawling in the bathtub.  Oh, how I love him!