The gloves are off...

Well, rather, they are about to be on. But, I use the "gloves off" phrase thanks to my good friend, Micki. You see, another Facebook night - amazing how that little site can inspire me to blog - so I posted that Spanky and I are going back to kickboxing class. And that I'm REALLY serious about it. SO serious, in fact, that I have taken off my acrylic nails. Yes, world, you heard it hear first (well, second, really, cause the whole Facebook thing), but, anyway - no nails.

And, my friend, Micki, commented, "'nails off!' It's kind of a hip chicks version of 'gloves off' right?" Yes, Micki, I do believe that it is. Now to really drive home the significance of this momentous occassion, you will need again, yes, some history. As a child I admired my mother's fake nails and LONGED for the day when I, too, could be grown up enough to falsely elongate my natural nails and coat them with hardening chemicals to enhance my beauty. At 18, upon being able to make my own decisions and pay my own bills (most of the time), I got myself a fabulous set of these wonderous accesories. And, dear readers, I never looked back. I did mention last post that I am 34 years old, right? So, yes, the math on that is correct. 16 years, that's almost half of my life. Now a few months here and there along the way I let my natural nails take a breather - but this was intentional, people. I actually went to the salon and ASKED for them to be taken off - I PAID for them to be taken off. Yes, amazing, I know.

Now, before you get all scared and think I'm going all natural and going to start growing out my pit hair, keep in mind that I do intend to continue my routine of regular pedicures, eyebrow waxing and regular hair coloring - because, you know, beauty requires some upkeep - well, my beauty anyway. I'm just trying to convey here how serious I am about beating and kicking the shit out of a bag at the gym. I started it up a few months ago, then sort of let it go - I liked the excuse that I kept breaking nails, because beauty is important you know - and that I really don't like to sweat. But, stopping the kickboxing class has become almost catastrophic.

You see, the Autumn that appears before you today was not always as svelte and sexy as now. Oh, no, dear readers, Autumn was MAJORLY fat. And I'm not talking Bridget Jones chubby here, no, really fat. At my highest weight I was 350 pounds. Now, it took a lot to get there, and that story is long - though not boring - but it is for another time. Suffice it to say that through circumstance, some hard work and a few illnesses, I made it down to a very reasonable 145 pounds last year (though most of the process was completed by about mid-2005, the last 40 pounds or so were just through last October). While recovering from a major illness and regaining back my strength, Spanky and I discovered the MMA - that would be Mixed Martial Arts, for those of you not in the know. So, the WEC or Ultimate Fighting Championship stuff - mix boxing and karate and jujitsu and wrestling and chokeholds and put it all in a ring and tear the hell out of each other - in a completely sportsman-like way, of course.

Then, we discovered a gym that featured this type of workout. I went to some kickboxing classes - and I was hooked. Never one for exercise, because, you know, the sweating and the red-face and the sweating and the physical effort involved and the sweating and the how in the hell do you look cute when you're DYING and did I mention, SWEATING???? Doesn't matter, this was FUN! And I was getting muscles. And I could almost - and really only almost - do like 5 whole push-ups - the girl kind, but still, this is major stuff. Then things got busy, then the breaking of the nails, and you know, it costs money that I could be spending on other things - like my nails....

Anyway, fast-forward to May. Hmmmm, my pants are getting a little tight. Mind you, I had to buy ALL new clothes last year because everything I had was too big for me. Oh, yeah, so cool when you're buying a size 6 and even THOSE are getting to be loose on you. SO COOL. But, I digress, stepping on the scale in May, about 147 - oh, watch that extra glass of wine, keep those calories in check. June, ouch - 154. I never knew 9 pounds could make such a difference. See, because, when you're 350 pounds, you can gain or loose 20 pounds in 2 weeks and never feel or see it. BUT, 9 pounds when you're 145 - that's a whole pants size difference!!! And then, OMG, the scale hit 158. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, most women have at least had SOME kind of issue with weight in their lives. But THIS woman has had major issues. And I'll be DAMNED if I'm getting up above 158, people. Well, right now it's 157 - but, you see the issue here. I CANNOT GET FAT AGAIN. (Well, let's say that with the exception of a pregnancy - because I haven't had any of those yet - and I hear it's kinda bad if you aren't gaining weight when you've got one of those going on.) So, kickboxing class starts up again tomorrow. 6:30 PM - and it's a 75 minute class. It may very well kick my ass. As long as it kicks my ass into a perky little shape, then it's all good.

Anyway, the nails came off, readers. And the gloves are going on (they're pink and SO cute, by the way). That damn bag isn't gonna know what hit it - because, even though I'm not 350 pounds anymore, I'm no more graceful now than I was when I did weigh that much and I certainly know how to buldoze my way through something - there's a story there, but, it's getting late. Watch out, bag - you're about to meet Autumn "Thunderfist Penguin" Donahue - and it ain't gonna be pretty for you!