No Makeup, No Men, and No Mirrors

(This post is sponsored by CurvesĀ® International.)

I’m taking a little break from talking about heavy stuff to bring you something FUN!Ā  When I entered recovery earlier this year, I mistakenly assumed that cutting out the 1,000 or so calories per day that I was ingesting in the form of cabernet would cause me to drop weight. And I did, at first, because going through the detoxification process made me really, really sick.

After I got through the first 14 days of sobriety, I started to crave things like Skittles and jelly beans and Coke — stuff I normally would not eat or drink. My body, accustomed to getting a certain amount of sugar from alcohol, craved insane amounts of garbage, and because I was desperate to make my cravings for wine go away, I consumed it allllllllllllllllllllllllll. No, really. All.

I chowed down on 1-pound bags of dark chocolate M&M’s. I ordered everything on the Starbucks menu (side note: their “morning bun” is divine). I ate cinnamon rolls and french fries with cheese on top and deep fried things and full-size ice cream concoctions from Dairy Queen. I ate pizza and drank Ice-es and ate snowballs with condensed milk poured on top. It was very much like the Very Hungry Caterpillar. I was the Very Hungry Sober Lady.

Everyone assured me that this was normal. Most women in early recovery spend their time crying and eating simple carbs, and that is pretty much exactly what I did for three whole months; by the time I was 4 months sober, I’d packed on 12 pounds. By month 6, I decided it was time to get serious about getting my weight under control, or at the very least, getting physically stronger. My mind is healing, and my body is, too. It would just be nice if there was a little less of me.

When I got the opportunity to spend a full month at Curves, one of the world’s largest fitness chains for women, I jumped on it. The closest franchise is only about a mile from my house, and since the workouts are only 30 minutes, there was really no excuse for me to NOT say yes.

I’d heard of Curves before, but had never been inside one. Isn’t it mostly full of old ladies? I was dubious, but willing to give it a shot.


This is me, right before going inside Curves for the first time. #skeptical


The informal motto of Curves is “No makeup, no men, and no mirrors!” I have to admit, I can get on board with the no men and no mirrors part, but I still have to wear some makeup. Yes, I realize that’s stupid because no one cares and I’m just going to sweat it off. This is why I’m in therapy, people.

I find the people at Curves to be incredibly welcoming, helpful, and kind. I went through an intense assessment process (hello, body fat measuring thingy) before completing my first workout. The set up is a big room with a bunch of different equipment around the perimeter. You just jump in and start the circuit, and move to the next station every 30 seconds. I like the variety and the pace; 30 minutes flies by quickly.

When I was observing the other women exercise, I noticed that they were moving REALLY slowly on the machines, and — don’t judge me — I stupidly assumed it was because they are old.


The machines are hydraulic and they are really challenging to use. It’s been a pretty humbling experience — I mean, I normally do Spin! Shouldn’t I be able to keep up with old ladies?! I’m in worse shape than I thought.

I roped my friend Megan into going with me every Tuesday and Thursday morning after we drop off our preschoolers, so I’m excited to see our progress through the month.


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Photo credit: my friend Megan.


(This post was sponsored by Curves International, but the content and opinions expressed here are all my own.)


It’s Tuesday.

My husband and I crawled into bed last night like a couple of geriatrics. I’m so sore, I groaned. Me too, he whined. My shins are killing me.

I knew I was sore from a tough exercise class, but what was HE sore from?

Bowling. That’s what. And this is how I looked at him.


I tried to stop the nagging from happening, I really did. But as I laid there in bed thinking about his sore shins, I had a sudden flash-forward of what life will look like when I’m 64 and he is 62, and … it scared the crap out of me.

I jerked my earplugs out and I began to tell him all the reasons why he needs to exercise. I’m sure he was riveted by my tirade, which is why he didn’t respond. Finally, I demanded to know WHY HE REFUSES TO EXERCISE. That is when Robbie Hobbs made the following speech:

“I don’t exercise because it makes me miserable.

It does not make me feel ‘elated.’

It does not make me feel ‘happy.’

All of the things it makes you? It does the opposite for me.

It makes me feel tired, hungry, and sore.

It makes me miserable. THAT IS WHY I DON’T DO IT.”

I explained my fear that a motorized shopping cart is in his future, something I know I am not equipped to handle (because my bedside manner sucks), and he said not to worry because I’m going to end up with Alzheimer’s and I won’t have a clue what’s going on anyway.

And so I put my earplugs back in, and silently worried about that instead.

Spin Class.



Today, as mentioned in my previous post, I needed a break from my children so I chose to attend a Spin class.

I have been to exactly one Spin class in my life before today and it was a very long time ago. I had forgotten how badly it makes you hurt in all the wrong places for all the wrong reasons. I mean, sure, riding a bike for an hour is tiring and I’m a little sore from that — but the bicycle seat is what really gets you. My sit bones feel bruised. I made the mistake of sitting on the edge of the bath tub tonight while I waited for Asher to finish using the potty and I gasped in pain. Apparently that startled him and he nearly fell into the toilet, which would have made for an interesting story … but … he caught himself.

I find it ironic that the hour I spent getting yelled at by a spin instructor was a welcome break from the remaining 12 that I spent getting yelled or cried at by small children. On the up side, I did not pass out during class, fall off my bike, or collapse when it was all over — mainly because I refused to be shown up by all the much older, much more in shape people present. So I walked slowly and smiled brightly, like NO, I DON’T WANT TO VOMIT, WHY DO YOU ASK?

At one point during class, the instructor was explaining intervals and said, “You should feel slight nausea right now — if you don’t feel slightly nauseous you aren’t pushing hard enough. If you actually throw up then you pushed too hard.” I cracked up, like really guffawed from my spot on the back row, but no one else found this to be funny. Maybe they were trying to keep their cookies in check.

I often find myself laughing loudly when no one else is.

There were a lot of men in the class so I immediately texted Robbie that it’s a shame we can’t do this stuff together. He needs the cardio, and quite frankly, I think it would be fun to kick his ass.

He didn’t respond.

I’m not a perfectionist when it comes to my body, it’s always been a little fat and I’m totally okay with that, but if I am going to keep up with the kids I really do need to be in shape. Also, if I’m not going to earn a paycheck I might as well have an ass you can bounce a quarter off of. This is my logic.