I have a new rule regarding exercise & fitness that I made up based on my experiences today:
Look, I have fibromyalgia & because I can’t Beyoncé like I used to, I am a chubby girl. But I need to exercise & move because that actually makes fibro hurt less. I’d also like to weigh less so that my fibro muscles aren’t carting around so much chub. I have gone the Beyoncé route with a fabulous trainer who had me doing HIIT & I lost 30 lbs in 4 months. Ridiculous rapid weight loss. Amazing. I looked fantastic.
I was also constantly injured. This is not my trainer’s fault. This is me being a dumb ass & not expressing my limits. This was me not acknowledging limits. This was me going 7/11.
Today it began El Niñoing all over Los Angeles & rain is pretty much garbage juice for fibromyalgia. It’s the pressure change plus the cold & the damp. If you have any arthritis in you at all (& my hips are a mess; thanks, huge boobs!), it is triggered by the damp & that makes the fibro worse.
Thankfully my sister & her boyfriend got me a Hurry Cane for Christmas. This may seem like a ridiculous thing to get a person like me if you are one of those people who only sees me at parties or out dancing. I’d like to remind you that you only see me like twice a year.
The Hurry Cane is amazing because I can bust it out for a few hours, take some of the stress off the affected muscle or connective tissue, & then I feel fine. I feel fine.
My new dilemma is that I was also gifted a Fitbit Flex for Christmas by my attorney, & I am a competitive asshole with a fitness instructor cousin in England who constantly invites me to step count challenges. I am intellectually incapable of resisting a challenge. If you challenge me to a thing, it will become my goal in life to 0wnz0r you, even if that goal is unrealistic or possibly dangerous. Challenge me to a duel & see what happens to you, which will probably end with you driving me to the hospital.
So here I am, hobbling about in the monsoon with my Hurry Cane, puttering around work, the Jiffy Lube, & the Ralph’s, & not wracking up many steps. THIS IS TORTURE. I am watching everyone blow by me & I haven’t even met my my modest step goal. I am seething with rage. It is cold & wet & flooded outside.
Then I remembered that I own, on DVD, Leslie Sansone’s Walk Away The Pounds. Let me preface this by saying that I was the girl who took kick boxing & did Tai Bo & did Susan Powter’s Stop The Insanity & religiously attended step aerobics all through college. I took 2 hour dance classes. I jogged. I worked out with a celebrity trainer & ran around with kettle bells.
But when I was first diagnosed with fibromyalgia, I could barely walk 2 minutes without curling into a ball in pain. So I got myself Walk Away the Pounds.
I put it in. I didn’t need the cane. I hit & then exceeded my step goal. I took a shower with my Philosophy Sparkle Holly Berry stuff (thanks, Mum) & got into bed.
I could not Beyoncé, but I could Betty. Betty is better than nothing. Betty is better than a lot of things.
So if you can’t Beyoncé, Betty. And if you can’t Betty, eat a cake, light a cigarette, & call your ex. Now you’re Adele*.