New Series: Adventures with D

12 July, 2014

I know. I know. The title, "Adventures with D" is  like a built in "That's what she said" joke.

What can I say. My mind totally lives in the gutter.

Let's just go ahead and address the giant elephant in the room right away, shall we.

I'm a little bit infatuated with my trainer. In fact, it is UNFAIR he is so attractive.

Plus he is super nice.

And not to mention to bizarre feeling of "not wanting to share" that happens when friends ask about him is super bizarre.

It's ridiculous actually.

But the most ridiculous part of all of this is that I see him in my regular 'ole clothes (generally outfits where I'm feeling slight cute as I see him right after work), checking in at the gym and clam right up. Can barely get out more than a "Hi" which is generally followed by a giggle. But get my in my fantastically unattractive compression pants that show all my lumps and bumps, and tank tops which let it all hang out and I'm full of sass. *sigh* It just doesn't make any sense.'s time to move on to what this post is really supposed to be about.

I've been working out with him, him being D, now for two weeks. We meet twice a week for an hour each session. Squats, bird dogs and halo's seem to be his preferred form of torture exercises for me. Along with bridges and dead lifts.

The first week was awful. My legs felt like jell-o almost from the beginning, I was the color of a lobster and felt like I couldn't get enough breath to save my life. I even needed to take a break or two from being a wee bit dizzy (i.e. I needed some air). It was unbelievably discouraging and had D not been by my side, cheering me on, I would have likely quit. Being competitive, even with myself, isn't in my nature. So pushing myself to get over the above wouldn't haven't happened had I been doing this on my own.

I am quite happy to say though, that week 2 was MUCH better. Still feel like I have jell-o legs, my arms a little shaky from lifting weights, but I FEEL better, which is pretty amazing. The squats have gotten easier, I don't exactly feel like I'm about ready to die and my hip, which decided to give me fits again, is staring to actually feel normal. I hesitate to say that man is a miracle worker, but he kind of is.

In addition to working with D on the fitness aspect of my life, he's also pretty much dismantled my diet. I was fully prepared to go to battle with him on peanut butter but thankfully he said it was o.k. to let that say. Sadly, the bread had to go which leaves few options for keeping said peanut butter. I have a feeling he did that on purpose. 

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