The importance of motivation

What’s up, Peeps! My name is Lisa, infiltrating Mollie’s blog while she’s sunning herself on a rock in paradise. If you want to check out my blog, you can mosey on over to Just Lisa, No Filler. It's the story of me, my husband Wylee, our daughter The Allie Cat, and our struggle to add a fourth one to the mix.

I know the crazy cat lady from this thing called Operation Muffin Top(ple). It’s a group of awesome ladies that are trying to lose some weight. I’ve been struggling to lose weight for years, starting with an event that happened when I was still young and single. I was on a date, and while I was at the restaurant, wolfing down my cheese tortellini, I noticed that my date was staring at me. Did I have alfredo sauce dripping down my chin? Was there a bit of cilantro stuck between my teeth?

“What’s the matter?” I asked, self-consciously dabbing my napkin around my mouth.

“You’re quite pretty,” he answered, carefully observing me. “You would look sensational if you worked out.”

There it was, right smack in front of my face. The classic “you-have-a-pretty-face” syndrome. The nice way of saying, “Your butt’s getting too big for the chair.”

Don’t worry. There was no second date.

The very next day, I went to a local gym and asked for a tour. I was really hoping for a tour guide who resembled an Adonis, like in the movies, but unfortunately I ended up with Barbie’s twin. I could give this woman the twenty pounds that I wanted to lose and she still would have been the skinniest girl I had ever seen.

“OK, let’s go!” Barbie said in her best cheerleader voice. “This is the best decision you’ve ever made! Let’s get started!”

For me, the key to working out is the proper motivation, and I have to say that I would be much more motivated to go through the pain and torture of working out if I had a golden boy with the arms of Brett Favre and the chest of Tito Ortiz encouraging me along. “I’m really not ready to make a commitment,” I said. “I just want to look around and see if this is the right place for me.”

Barbie just giggled at this. “Looking around isn’t going to make those hips any smaller, Silly.”

Sigh. I was defeated.

Barbie took me around to each machine and showed me how everything worked. She made me do as many reps as I could on each machine and then set goals for me to increase my levels of strength and endurance. Then she measured every possible area of my body, pinched muscles that I didn’t even know I had, and figured out my body fat (something that I will never share, even with you).

I noticed throughout the tour that there were women everywhere. Large women, small women, young women, old women, pretty women, not so pretty women, women, women, women. I felt like a demented Dr. Seuss. Where were all the guys? “Excuse me,” I said to my spandex-clad tour guide, “Is there a certain time when there will be more, um, guys?”

Barbie could barely contain her laughter. “There isn’t going to be any guys here,” she managed between giggles. “Didn’t you know? This gym is for women only.”

That was the last time I stepped foot into a gym. Like I said, motivation is an important thing for me. I absolutely have to have something to look at as I sweat. And if Adonis isn’t going to be there, I have to move on.

Yeah, my hips are getting a little big. But hey, I’m married now! Joke’s on Wylee!

(Thanks for letting me play, Mollie! Hope you're having a great vacation! ~Lisa)