Who am I? Sounds a bit like a bad acid trip, where one questions oneself down that infinite spiral of uncertainty and near insanity. But really, ‘Who am I?’ Does the answer lie with the many roles that I play: mother, wife, daughter, sister, business-woman, etc.; and if so, does pursuing the particular persona I find myself in at any given moment take away from, or influence other ‘Nicoles’? From this perspective I have been left with two very limiting existences: only allow myself to be one role/ person at a time; or, scramble to find the other ‘Nicoles’ based on circumstances out of my control. Well, as anybody who knows me will tell you, I’d rather opt for any other feasible scenario where I have the monopoly in the control category. So bollocks to giving any control to any other person, or situations created therein.

So who am I? Sounding like Abbott and Costello yet? But really, there are some basics that provide the general schematic under which I find myself constantly operating. I am a mother of a five-year old daughter, wife of eight years, Senior Graphic Designer at 303 Magazine, and stay at home mom. My daughter, Ilee, attends half-time kindergarten for three hours a day (I don’t know in what world 3 hours constitutes half of any day, but so be it). I have recently been able to self identify my workaholic tendencies, and am proud of that; I believe that recognizing your problem is the first of the 12 steps. Although it seems as though each of the aforementioned roles are neatly defined, most blur into one another. My home/office/school-house is exactly that; a conglomerate of the various settings that life tends to put me in. 6am up checking emails, tightening up last minute work, and getting Ilee ready for school (I am getting real good at subliminal messaging through seemingly routine dialogue in order to expedite the process), which is much easier said than done, as Ilee appears to have a handle on a pre-law career judging by her unusually lucid and rational arguments; albeit delivered with a five-year old’s finesse. Once at school, I have time to use the restroom and then have to pick her up again. Working and being a mom, I have come to address only the necessities that Maslow has placed at the base of the pyramid. Good days are measured in cleanliness; ‘did I shower today?’

I realize that all my bitching is felt by more that not. Mothers (parents) have been dealing with this sort of balancing act for centuries. Bullshit! Who has balance? Seriously, who? I want to find this mythological creature and intern. I constantly feel like I am picking myself up off my face again, and again, and again… . The tsunami of life’s “immediates” tends to put anyone in a more reactionary state of being, and that control that I spoke of earlier is gone. I am not in the position to acquiesce to life so readily anymore. The nauseating feeling of having ‘me’ dictated to to me by some unknown, fictitious force that I have given power to is enough to motivate me into action. People have been made to feel as though we owe so much to others that we have foresaken ourselves.

In neglecting myself I have allowed outside sources to influence (traumatize) me more so than before. I would have never believed that I no longer get excited to go shopping, go out, or even get ready. But, here I am. The most obvious change for me is in addressing the sedentary lifestyle that design creates. Seeing as I have such an enormous amount of time offered by the public school system in the education of my child, I have a window to work within. I am alone, and have just enough of a reprieve before I return to the stage for the next set of my domestic DJ experience. I have since joined a gym in an attempt to have at least one small portion of the day focused on me and me alone. Although it was not quite that easy.

Gym shopping; sucks Lucifer’s taint (or is it a landing strip?)! I did find myself in many hellacious environments. Being in my thirties, who wants to work out next to twenty something Ms Hawaiian Tropic in her Maria Carey gym gear? Is there such a place where the mom’s and dad’s exist? Am I naive to believe that such a place does exist. Maybe it’s on the way to Atlantis? Luckily I did not have to embark on the fairy tale journey of epic proportions that I was anticipating.

MB Fitness had me at “Hello.” Well actually, they had me at $15 a month unlimited daycare and “Friends & Family Sundays.” Not only was the interior gorgeous, the general ambiance made me want to be a kid again and climb the walls (really, they have a climbing wall that is high enough to give nose bleeds). Once I signed up I immediately met with a trainer, Adam Geiger, Director of Fitness Operations. I was a bit intimidated being that he looks like he was carved of granite, and I had to confess all my vices. A sort of fitness Judgement Day (man I hope I took a shower today and he believes I ate okay). Adam now has enough information on me that blackmail is a serious concern. He was very easy to talk to and made me feel empowered rather than embarrassed. I was able to set reasonable goals through rational perspectives provided by Adam; A Kate Moss physique is not in my future (thank God my husband says. He is ready to write in Adam as Man of the Year for this statement alone). Muscle acquisition and fat reduction are synonymous. The scale does not calculate ‘fat pounds.’ We want to lose fat, by building and substituting muscle. With this being said, he took my measurements and I now find myself face to face with the consequences of years of relinquishing control of me.

Confronting the truth behind my obstacles: not eating all day and binging at night, nourishing (if you can even call it that) myself with convenience foods, sitting hours on end, staring at a lighted square shaped electronic device, working around clients’, daughter’s, husband’s, and family’s schedule (is there anyone else?) gave me an epiphany. There is someone else I need to schedule time for, ME damn it!

Goals for myself, through this training process are to be healthy, feel good, have more energy, ‘EXTRA innings’ with my husband, and ya, I want to look good too. But really to aggressively take the power back of dictating who I am, rather than being dictated who I am.

I will be training with Adam and blogging about my trials and tribulations along the way (this sounds so much better than admitting to the train wreck the first few weeks are undoubtedly going to be, until I find my rhythm, as I am quite the graceful creature).


TRUTH: (measurement) 160lb |  56.2lb fat mass | 35% body fat (very poor) | 103.7lb lean mass

GOAL: 130lb | 20lb fat mass | 20% body fat | 110lb lean mass