This Is What CrossFit Does to a Person

Saturday was my friend Craig’s birthday. He and I are both grown-up fat kids, so naturally, celebrating meant eating all the processed carbohydrates we could get our hands on that day. The topic of pre-CrossFit pictures arose at brunch. He showed us a photo of himself at 280, two eighty, and I said, “Craig… where are your ears?” He said, “My cheeks are hiding them.”

People have told me I look different from when I started CrossFit, but honest to god, I usually don’t feel that way. However, I did think of this one photo of myself in which I was pretty sure I looked different, so I pulled it up at brunch, and today I’ma show it to you, internet. Now, let’s all just agree to ignore whatever is happening with my hair, OK? I was going for bangs, but I have a cowlick,  and also I go to the Aveda school for haircuts because it’s cheap, and I don’t know, OK?! I don’t know. Drop it already.

Also this was pre-makeup tutorial, so all I knew how to do was mascara and lipstick (of a questionable hue).

If you can direct your attention to anything other than my hair or the giant… zit? mosquito bite? cowpock? on my upper arm, you’ll see what I looked like at my brother’s graduation from law school in May of 2009.

I mean, let’s be generous:  the photo is taken at the absolute least flattering angle, and I’m holding a baby, so my arm is squished up against my body… but there’s no denying that I’m a chunky monkey.

What did you say? You said you want more photos? Well, OK!

[And let me just stop right there and say that I’m 100% anti-fat-shaming. I think that people of all sizes and shapes can be beautiful and strong. Plus, fat-shamers do little except make the fat person hate herself, which (if she’s like me) will make her go eat more, resulting in more weight gain, and congratulations, assholes, on making the situation worse. So I’m not intending to fat-shame myself or anyone else with this post. (Nor should you. If you jack up my comments section with fat-shaming, I’m going to ask you politely to eat a dick.) Nope, I’m not going to fat-shame or body-bash. I’m going to illustrate something. I have a point to make. I’ll get there. Bear with me.]

Here I am in June of 2006 at my brother’s wedding:

Just barin’ my midriff, awkwardly, in November 2008:

A friend’s wedding in May 2010:

And now, because I love you and appreciate your readership, I’m going to give you a gift. This is not something I do lightly. This counts as the Embarrassing Photo of the Week for all of 2013, deal? It is with great contemplation and no small trepidation that I give you Fourth of July 2009:

Sorry, I thought I’d try some misdirection. It probably worked for a second. He is so very cute.

OK, we can talk again about the unflattering angle and lack of makeup, but mm-hm, let’s all take a minute to observe exactly how hard my inner lesbian was punching a heavy bag inside me trying to come out. A lesbian friend looked at this picture on Saturday night and said, “When I’m in the act of having sex with women, I’m not as gay as you are in that picture.”

I swear I’m into dudes.

I digress.

So  August 17, 2010, I start CrossFit, and I go four times a week, up to this very day. I lift, I jump, I run (ugh), I sit up, I push up, I pull up. I do my best to get harder, better, faster (sorta), stronger. Most definitely stronger.

Here I am this past Saturday, after the first Open WOD:

Here I am at Kate’s birthday in November:

OK, granted it was after the makeup tutorial, and granted I’m wearing a slimming black wrap-around dress, and granted my boobs are buttressed like whoa, but I think even in my face you can see the difference.

In fact, here:

Different, right? You’re still looking at my boobs, aren’t you? It’s OK.

Let’s look at another example. This is me at the State Fair last October:

You can see, I’m still wide at the hips, the circumference of my arms is still considerable, and my middle is still kinda squishy, but there’s a difference between that and my pre-CrossFit days, right?

The fact is, until I get my eating issues under control, I’ll always be overweight—I know that.

But here’s the kicker, and you’re not going to believe me, but I swear to fucking god it’s true. You ready?

I haven’t lost weight since I started CrossFit.

The most I ever weighed in my life was 177 pounds, and when I got on the scale at the doctor’s office ten days ago, it said:

1… 7… 3.

That’s right. 173 pounds. A 4-lb weight loss in two and a half years.

So. My point. (I told you I had one!)

CrossFit will not necessarily make you lose weight. If your only concern is a number on a scale, this shit is not for you. CrossFit will not necessarily make you skinny. If skinny’s what you’re after, you’ve got to eat less. (And for some of us, that’s harder than for others.)

CrossFit will, however, change your girth. CrossFit will make you stronger. CrossFit will change your body composition. CrossFit will remove some of the fat and make you gain muscle and therefore make you feel (and yes, look) better.

Plus, it’s fun, and you make friends. Does this sound like a CrossFit commercial? Well, I guess it is. (Hey, CrossFit HQ, you want to make it rain for your girl, or?)

Maybe you can’t afford CrossFit. That’s legit. It’s expensive. All I’m saying is, if you want to look/feel better, consider diverting your focus from the scale; instead, lift a heavy thing, and run a little bit.

All I’m saying is, find some friends who’ll do something physically challenging with you four times a week.

All I’m saying is, there’s a community WOD at CrossFit Durham every Saturday. It’s free. Come on. I’ll go with you.

Costa Rica, last September:

(Makes you feel like you need to do handstands *everywhere*. You’re such an asshole. Nobody cares about your fucking handstand.)

Oh, and my friend Craig? These days he’s a Studly Dudley, and you can totally see his ears from the front.

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