Get me your "Before & After"

Let me begin by saying, I'm not one to look back.
It's in my Sagittarian nature, as well as my yogi-code, to live "in the moment" and without regret as much as I can. There were times...years even...where I let myself fall into the woe of not-letting-go, and I just didn't jive with it. I'm going to be me, NOW, and live each moment as my lil' heart tells me to live it.

Which is why--when earlier this week Strapping-Young-Trainer-Tommy yelled over, "Rrrrrach! Send me your before & after"--I may have panicked.

"I'm pretty sure I've burned all those old photos..." 
Yes, I'm quick to the joke, but really I had no idea if I even had photos of myself from before. Pictures get taken and I leave them behind. I leave the thought of who I was in the moment...well, IN that moment. And when you get down to the nitty-gritty of it...there are a lot of previous "Me's" that I don't want to see. I know each of them...and there is that teeny, tiny, doubtful voice in the back of my mind that says,

"Don't look back. What if you really haven't come that far?"

"I really don't think I've changed though..."

I can admit now that I greatly appreciated his reaction: a scoff of disbelief and a punch in the arm.  Even Awesome-Idol-Trainer-Dana gave me a squeeze and a "You're so skinny!" But let me tell you, stepping up to the plate of my laptop the next day to sort through photos was a challenge I hadn't expected.  I started out with blinders on, just looking for something from RIGHT before I started at the gym. Photos from February 2012, during the run of RENT I was in. I stared those images down as if I could burn a hole through the screen, Superman-style. I was not a happy girl then. It was a tumultuous time in my life and just about EVERYTHING was in upheaval. I reflected that physically.

And I accept that now...because I've taken control.

SO: I rolled up my sleeves and said, "Rachel...let's do this."

I went  back 6 years.

In 6 years, I have been so many people. So many sizes. So many degrees of happy, sad, tired, alive, loved, left...

But this is the first time in 6 years, I feel completely in control and on the right path--with my body, diet, and all around wellness. And it is because of that, that I'm going to share with you the journey I have been on; photos that I haven't even been willing to look at my self for years!

If I'm going to act like my opinion matters...I should show you why I think it does.

Because I'm happy. Because I HAVE come a long way.

And dammit...because I look good.

Layin' it all out there.

I can only hope that whether it's our bodies, our states-of-mind, our careers, that one day we all can take the time (obviously, coming from a SUPER positive place) and reflect on where we've been...and where we're going.

Until next time, Cave-Kids.

Grr...urg...LOVE,

This Primal Yogi

Skinny Jeans and Squat Cleans

*We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming for a moment of success*

(A note to the faint of heart: this entry is literally me describing putting on a pair pants.)

So I woke up this morning thinking it was Thursday again.

That just lets you know how the day started. I over slept, and woke up twisted like a pretzel so that my arm felt like tingly-jelly as I brushed my teeth. There was no food for breakfast or for me to throw together a lunch, and I forgot again that the lizard needed crickets.

It was a morning.
And then, as I hunted through my drawers and the clean laundry, I came to the distressing realization that: I had no pants. Seriously, NO PANTS. Every shirt I have ever owned—let alone worn in the past week—was clean and ready to go, but all leg coverings had somehow remained in the laundry bins stowed away in the basement. I scurried around the house in a pants-less frenzy as the cats watched me in their nonchalant manner, surely thinking to themselves, “Rachel, dear: pants are for peasants.”

I knew of only one pair of jeans, stowed away. And I knew they didn’t fit. And I knew that the last time I tried to put them on…I’m pretty sure they laughed at me. The gray-skinny-distressed-jeans looked up at me as I tried to yank one side to the other, willing the zipper skyward…and they laughed at me.

And then maybe I cried.

But in this morning’s mood, I said screw it, this’ll be a great trip down Self-Deprecating Road and I’ll have one more reason to be QUEEN OF THE GRUMPS today. As I slipped the left leg in, I had a flashback to where the jeans started to get too snug last time. I held my breath and couldn’t look down. Somehow, however, the jeans kept sliding. I accepted the fact that I now had to introduce the right leg to said Smug Jeans, and I believe I audibly harrumphed, “yeah…that’s not happening.”

Yet, I pointed my toes and went in. Sheepishly, I pulled those bad boys up to the “danger zone,” also known as my monstrous thighs. (*NOTE: I love my big mamma jamma thighs, because my quads/hammies are the only muscle groups in my body that have always been strong and awesome and ginormous.*) This would usually be the point where I have to do a little dance to shimmy the jeans up an inch at a time until falling over in despair and later crying into some buffalo wings. But with a surprising pull, Not-So-Smug Jeans hiked up over my (not too shabby) caboose.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

I swear, Siddha, (the most apathetic of the three cats) started a slow clap for me.

I almost didn’t want to take that last step and wrangle the button. At that moment, I knew good and well that once I slid that button in and model-stomped-Tyra-style in front of the mirror, I would have to admit it myself that the hard work is paying off. And once you admit that…you have to keep doing it.

My future of awesomeness was held for just a moment in the button clasp of my jeans.

Did I back down? Did I let the fear of having to be accountable for my results/health/wellness/waistline make me quickly escape those jeans and dig out some dirty guachos?

Do I look like a girl who will waste a nice ass day?!

Look out world, me and these jeans are coming for your squat cleans!

(Okay, really I’ll be in spandex.)

Thank you for getting dressed with me.

*We will now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.*

Grr...urg...LOVE,

This Primal Yogi

*NEXT ON THE BLOG*

They Say It's Your Birthday (for real this time!)