Example

Yesterday, I bought two pairs of $6 leggings at Target to wear when I run. I figured they'd be more comfy than too-large gym pants that fall down my butt and get caught under the heels of my running shoes.

I gave them a go today and what do you know, I was right. I LOVE wearing them. I'm not too concerened with how I look in them, either. I wore a long enough t-shirt. It covered my booty and my insanely visible panty lines (which I've never really worried about, anyway. Yes, people, I'm wearing undies).

I drove to Stockton from Mom and Dad's because I had an appointment with G. the Meanie. He was working with a client nearby while I was doing my thing in the stretching area before my run. He looked at my legs and said, "I've never seen you wear that kind of pants before!"

"'Cause I never have." He remarked that they make me look even smaller than my old, too-large baggy pants do. Amazing, that.

A few minutes later, two ladies pulled up mats next to me. G. saw them and said to one, "Hey, how much weight did you say you want to lose?" She replied, "Twenty pounds."

"Hey, Megan, how much weight would you say you've lost in the last three months?"

He knows damned well how much weight I've lost--he watches me weigh every Monday.

"Thirty pounds. Fifty overall."

The lady was suitably impressed.

"What did you just finish doing, Megan?"

"Twenty minutes on the stairs. One-minute intervals at levels 5, 6, 7, and 3."

"What are you going to do now?"

"Run a mile."

"How often do you hit the cardio?"

"Pretty much every day."

The lady next to me was just gaping and saying, "Oh, my God. Way to go!" over and over. I found out later that she is a potential training client, and I'm an excellent example of what can happen if you stick to the program.

Hell, stick to the program and you'll find yourself wearing leggings with not an ounce of shame. And that the gym employees not only know you by name, but "spy" on you.

During our workout, G. got a sly smile on his face and asked, "So, B. tells me he saw someone flirting with you the other day. What was that all about?"

"Huh?"

"He said some guy was flirting with you."

"I'm a dumbass about these things, G. I can't tell the difference between flirting and a normal conversation. And, uh...I can't remember who I might have been talking to."

I've started noticing that people sort of "know" me at the gym. If not my name, then they recognize me as a fellow gymrat (gymbo) who spends a lot of time there. Last weekend, I ran into a guy at PetCo who recognized me and remarked about how hard I was working with G. the day before.

"So what is this, do I have all the employees of the gym spying on me now?"

G. just laughed and said, "No, he just noticed it and mentioned it when I told him about your weight loss success."

Heh.

At the end of my session, as G. and I sat at his desk signing out, B. called my name from his desk.

"Would you mind if the counselors had you talk to people about what you've been doing when they're selling training?"

"Not at all!"

It seems that when people inquire about personal training, if I'm at the gym, the counselors might have me answer a few questions about my own success with the program. I can pretty much map out what I would tell people: Yes, it's hard, and a lot of work. Yes, it DOES work. Yup, 50 pounds so far, 40 to go. Yeah, a year ago, I was wearing size 18 jeans. Now I wear a 12--almost a 10. Oh, don't let G.'s attitude fool you, he's really very nice. Just don't piss him off by not following the program.

It's nice to be the success story. It's awesome to know that the hard work I've put in is not only paying off for me, but also inspiring other people. This is one of the hardest things I've ever done, but also one of the most rewarding.

I bought some new clothes yesterday--not a lot, just a few cute things to tide me over through the spring. I bought a top that months ago, would have looked horrible. It would have accented my large, floppy bust (my girls are still big for a lady of 5'2" but they are waaaay more supported now, and less spilling-out-all-over) and my droopy upper arms. Now, it just looks cute.

Oh, and I bought a swimsuit without crying in the fitting room.

I love being the example--the person who is making it, who is not looking back.