I was consumed.

I couldn't see straight.

I was desperate to get my pre-baby body back.

I was 115 pounds. Weighed everything I put in my mouth. Spent my weekends completely stressed out planning and preparing my meals. Plugging my macros and tracking everything I ate obsessively into MyFitnessPal.

Note: I HATE to cook. Correction. F*&*KING HATE to cook.

Went to trainers, nutritionists, hired health coaches, packed my perfectly portioned food and would bring it wherever I went, plastic surgeons, therapists (some really bad and some decent), buying tons of clothes to hide my little baby pooch and nothing felt like it fit right. Anything to help me feel better.

I would go to an almost empty gym with a trainer at 5am to make sure I could get that body and make sure my form was right. Her primary mode of measure was BMI. For some reason, my BMI was measuring at a ridiculously high number, despite my low weight. I tried every method and still read the same. I saw red. 😡

I could feel any semblance of sanity slipping away.

Almost as if I was hovering over my body watching myself go deeper into a hole, so afraid that I was one Dorito away from my body completely falling apart.

I knew none of this mattered. it certainly wasn't helping anybody. In fact, it was hurting everyone. My relationships. To myself. To my friends. To my beloved family who deserved a more present mother and wife.

No matter what I did, nothing made me feel better.

My obsession swallowed me whole.

Believe it or not, all of this was finally reversed with a tarot card reading. More on that another time.

It's been a few years. And I went to visit my orthopedic surgeon this week to check on my knee that I recently tweaked accidentally stepping on a light bulb.

I tore my ACL in late 2020 and had surgery to repair it.

I told him that I wanted to learn more technical dancing and go really hard - but was super careful with my knee as I'm so afraid to injure it again.

He said I need weightlifting. Like, real weightlifting to strengthen primarily my quads/hamstrings to prevent injury. Not the resistance megaformer classes I love. Or barre. Or low weight, high rep. REAL weight.

I went into full-blown panic mode. Every trigger went off.

Going back to the gym. THAT gym.

Lifting boring weights. Pre/post workout food. That feeling of isolation came rushing back.

Should I look for another trainer?

What if said trainer is a total d-bag? I'm always annoyed by (most) trainers who think every other trainer is an idiot and they know "the right way."

Would that trainer ask me to track my nutrition? Aaaaahhh!!!

I broke down crying. Sheesh!

Some of these scars run so deep. But don't worry about me.

I calmed down. I actually have an appointment to meet a new trainer at a new gym this morning. Wish me luck.

Change is good. And speaking of BIG-ASS CHANGES, I have been waiting for YEARS to bring this topic to you.

The transgender community has been in the news more and more lately. Some very negatively and some super positive.

I've been following Frankie Love (he/him/they) who identifies as transgender and their wife Candi Lecoeur and they both agreed to share their experience with us!

Boy, did I learn so much. And I'm so grateful for the advocacy and education they both are working towards. You do NOT want to miss this one.

So so fascinating. And illuminating.

Listen here:

Show notes page

Apple Podcasts

Spotify

Castbox

Google Podcasts

Stitcher

xo,

Allison

P.S. It's been a week, y'all. And if you've got Spring Break planned, I hope you enjoy the hell out of a break from the every day.