A little while ago, I moved into a 'party mansion' with what turned out to be a couple of gym rats (ironic, no?). Their constant efforts inspired me to join the gym with them and kept me going consistently. And that's exactly what I did, but even then, I was nothing more than a slave to the cardio machines. The weight room was refered to as the 'scary room,' filled with loud grunts, back-talk, and the unmistakable stench of sweat and testosterone. One of my roommates took it upon himself to get me to start weight lifting with him. I can't believe how little I knew then! I was so afraid of getting bulky and was quite sure I would be eaten up by the unseen monsters in the 'scary room.' But I was assured that I would be perfectly safe and if I started looking like a she-hulk, I could always stop. A week later I took my first steps into the 'scary room' and never looked back. Fast-forward a year, the weight room is now my home away from home and roommate who convinced me to start is now my boyfriend!

Those days when you can barely move, when you are waddling down the hall because you had a killer leg day or you can barely get your arms to the keyboard because you were doing 21s until you wanted to pass out. Those are the days I love! I can lift just like anyone else in the 'scary room' and know I am killing it each and every day to get stronger and more fit!