Boom boom pow

Feeling both old and young this week. Haha, who am I kidding? Mostly old. But progress. Have lost a bit more weight and (once again) am the least amount of me I've been in years. Did the gym Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday (with boxing), and Friday (with boxing). I've fallen into a bit of a routine, though it's a routine I know will need to change once I actually hear from my editor (sigh) and can get started on book two. I haven't been doing much writing. Mostly doing life things and trying to get in better shape. Because the shape of me has not been great for a while.

My used-to-be fat jeans which I couldn't even fit into until recently are now starting to be loose. Which is progress. And the jeans I'd really like to get back into I can actually get into...but it would be a crime to wear them out in public. But they do zip up, so that's something. So on the one hand, I feel better. But then I remember that they're supposed to be my fat jeans and I get kinda down again. I know, I know, baby steps. Thirteen more pounds to go. About 6 kgs. Fifteen pounds lost so far. Nearly 7 kg. Dammit, I really can't think in kilos.

Also had a physio appointment this week wherein they checked me out for the back/leg/sciatica pain. Basically gave me some stretches to do and wants me to go to their back therapy class, but it's at 8 AM on Thursdays when I'm supposed to be dropping little dude at school. So have to work that out. But some general progress on that -- the days where I exercise actually mean less leg pain at night. That's why weekends have been worse...I've only been going to the gym during the week. The left wrist pain has been bad too (and no why for that pain, which is annoying). I can't do push ups anymore. But I did some shopping and got a wrist brace for it and that helped while punching. And I got a leg/knee pillow for sleeping and tried it out last night too and it seemed to help.

Though the damn thing smells like a chemical factory explosion. I had to open a window and the door -- which meant that the dog wandered in and farted on me all night. It was toxic.

And I picked up a TENS unit thing like they used to use on me when I first had my back problems. I'd never thought about getting one because I thought they would be really expensive. And maybe they were before, but now they're pretty damn cheap. I got one for £26. Tried it last night too, left it on while watching Star Trek. And all in all, everything was better last night. So that's all good. The pain has been waking me up every night for a while now. That'll make you feel old, my friend, let me tell you. My body is a traitor. It's been one for a while. The bastard thing.

Anyway, I had a weird moment/realisation while doing the personal training/boxing session today that's made me think. My trainer dude (a lovely funny young guy way taller than me, with a cool dragon tattoo and a bizarre sense of humour--which is probably why I like him better than the kinda grim Slavic lady I tried out first who only did "normal" gym stuff with me and not boxing) stretched out my shoulders at the end of the session. He hadn't done that before, probably because this is the hardest he's worked me so far. I punched a lot. We did some new combos. Ended with some rapid-fire punches that nearly killed me. Boom. Boom. Pow. And two sessions in one week (well, I get a free hour a month, but we split it into two 30 minute sessions this time -- I do 30 minutes on the cross trainer first and then go boxing with him and it wound up both being in one week).

Anyway, it's this kind of awkward stretch where I'm standing directly in front of him, back to his chest, and he's right behind me, pulling my shoulders back, moving my arms, etc.. And I had that moment of huh, this is, like, the first time in maybe 28 years that another dude has really touched me (other than the awkward kiss-kiss greetings you do in Europe and periodic hugging a friend hello). Not that it was even remotely sexual--it totally wasn't. I was gross and dripping sweat, muscles twitching and so, so tired.  And I'm not sure how old he is, but I could probably be his mom. But I'm talking really any kind of touch/contact. And husband doesn't really hug me much any more. Almost never holds my hand, as he's always walking ahead and complaining I walk too slow. He sleeps in another room (we snore. we both do. it's life.). I've been trying to initiate more contact, but, eh, it's hard sometimes. Life and tiredness and whatever is often in the way.

I was so touchy-feely in high school. I always had more guy friends than girl friends (I've always sucked at girly things), but all of us, we'd hug. We'd massage each other. We'd dance. I was a theatre kid. It wasn't weird to touch someone. And it really just hit me that I don't actually really touch people much anymore. Maybe I miss that. I dunno. Just touch. Not in a sexual, dating kind of way, but just in a feeling another human being kind of way. Is that weird? Do all people get like that? Is it just me? Do other people still manage to touch each other more as life goes on? That tactile feel of skin on skin? Or, you know, not in a creeper way, but through clothes? Whatever. I fear I'm not making sense.

It wasn't exactly an epiphany or anything. Just a weird moment. Maybe it's also a product of having had only one real partner my entire life. Hubby and I have been together since we were 18 and I never really was serious with anyone before that. That's a long time. My niece sometimes asks me for love-related advice and I'm, like, probably the worst person to ask. Everyone I know has had more partners than I have.

Totally rambling now. But it was stewing in my brain, so I wanted to get it out. No conclusions or anything. Just a thing. Another thing that makes me feel old and disconnected. I think I need a hug.