I've had to swallow my pride a bit more than usual this past week. It's a bitter pill, that pride. I don't like being looked at as pitiful or as needy and I have a REALLY hard time asking for help. I'm kind of stubborn that way. So when I get to my water aerobics class on Tuesday and my lifeguard friend isn't there (he's in the other pool room with all the kids taking swim lessons). I was stopped in my tracks. Guess who is OUR lifeguard? Some tiny sweet thing that couldn't weigh more than 100 pounds. "So, what's the problem?" you may ask. I wasn't planning on drowning. She wasn't going to have to fish me up from the bottom of the pool. But in about 45 minutes, I was going to have to get OUT of the freaking pool. The ladder I use to get out, must be manned at the top (stepped on) so that it doesn't come crashing down on the climber outer. Well, can you just picture that tiny sweet thing being launched across the pool when I step on the other end? Maybe you can't, but that's exactly what I imagined - and I almost had a panic attack at the thought. My lifeguard friend and I had a routine worked out and nothing had to be said. It was all very safe and comforting. Although it was embarrassing to need the help, I didn't have to announce it each day.
So I had a choice to make. I could hide somewhere until it was time to take boys 1 & 2 to their swim lessons, or I could get in the &#@* pool. My lifeguard friend saw me standing there (I'm sure with a stupid look on my face) and came over to me. I joked with him (not really joking) that he was in the wrong room and that the tiny lifeguard in there might get hurt when she tried to help me. He told me that they'd figure it out and that I should get in the pool. So I did. I worried the whole time. "How embarrassing would it be when I can't get out of the pool?" "Who's going to help me?" "Are they going to announce over the loud speaker that all lifeguards were needed in the big pool to get the circus fat lady out?" I tell you, when my worrier gets worrying, it really gets going. When it was time to go, I finally just mentioned something to the instructor and she asked the lifeguard to go get someone - who happened to be the co-director of aquatics - who happened to be a tall, handsome, physically fit man - just the person I wanted to watch me get out of the pool - with a close-up view to all of "this" (just imagine me gesturing to all of me).
For the rest of the week, I had to remind the instructor that I needed the other ladder - because between my sore foot, my sore knee and "all this", I can't get out of the pool like the 80 year old women in my class can. And you know what? (All together - "No, but I know his brother, Who.") It worked out. But there was a price to pay. I had to
ask for help - again and again. The thing is - it's not going to end any time
soon. I'm getting stronger every day and one day, I won't need the
"special" ladder. But, next, I need help with the equipment upstairs.
I need to know the right way to use it AND how many reps of 5 or 8 or 10 or
whatever I need to do. I tried to just figure it out. But, AGAIN, I knew I should ask for help. So I have an appointment with a trainer for my orientation. And,
of course, it's with one of their new trainers - a young, male trainer. Now I
know it was useless to hope for an old, fat, female trainer, but I don't deny
hoping for it anyway. After I can use the equipment without maiming myself, I'm
sure something else will come along to keep me humble. Over the weekend it was the full length mirror in my hotel room (Lobster got me a room for my Mama Mental Health Me Time - LOVE him, but hate that mirror!!). Right this minute, I'm
hating the "My Fitness Pal" button I installed on my blog that will
notify EVERYONE that reads this that I have lost 0 pounds toward my goal. Granted, I just installed it on Thursday. But
in addition to using the food tracking tool, I decided that I needed more accountability and the button (and its prominent placement), I'm hoping, will do that.
So, I'm needy! I'm pitiful! I require assistance! HELP ME! If I admit it to the world, will my experiences be different? I can only hope. On the bright side, I'm pretty sure that pride is calorie free.