Sometimes we don't slip through life quite so unnoticed as we might like to think.

For now, Wednesdays are my most difficult days at the gym. Each Wednesday, I either increase all exercises in my weight training regimen by one set, or am on the receiving end of a new weight training regimen from Laura-the-trainer.

I'm at the beginning of week three. On my first day, Laura walked with me from machine to machine, demonstrating how they were used and adjusted. (At 5'1½", I am by far one of the shortest people using these machines, and most machines have to be adjusted down to accommodate torsos, arms, and legs as short as mine.) She coached me through each machine, trying to determine how much weight I could handle on each machine.For most machines, a set is fifteen reps; machines working abdominal and back muscles get 20 reps each. On that first day, I struggled to complete one set on each machine.

I took home a photocopy of the regimen (detailed here) and put it by my computer, thinking, "No way in bloody hell I'm going to be able to do this." Of course, I never said that out loud, because if there's one thing I hate more than being publicly embarrassed, it's being publicly shown as an idiot.

Last Wednesday I moved to two sets and needed a long soak in a hot bath and a spousal massage for my aching calves. I struggled through the two-set workout on Monday, and promised myself that I'd ask for extra time, to not do the move to three sets until Friday.

Except that I forgot to ask when I went in for yesterday's workout, and sat down at the chest press machine and thought, "Screw this. This is the easiest exercise of the bunch. I can do three sets of this." I did them, and scribbled a '3' under 'sets' for chest presses, and then I thought, well, I was able to do three of the chest presses; I wonder if I can do three of the military presses?

A few minutes later, I scribbled a '3' under sets for military presses, and felt like I'd won something.

An hour and forty-five minutes later, each exercise - except for the bicep curls, which I've struggled with every day since starting to work out - had a '3' by it. I did my cardio work, then took my sheet up to Laura, who was free at the moment, and showed it to her.

"Hey, I've got some news that'll make your day."

"Bring it, girl."

"You so made a liar out of me. I was ready to go to three sets. Didn't think I was, but I was wrong."

She smiled, braces glinting. "I told you that you would be!"

"Yeah, everything except the bicep curls. Some of the exercises are difficult, but I can fight through them. This one's different. I'm still struggling to do two sets, and I'm not seeing any improvement from day to day."

"Hmm, well, you're married."

"What?"

"Well, you're married, so you've got someone to throw heavy stuff around at home for you. No worries. Happens lots. Sounds like the weight's too high for you, though. We'll drop you down in weight a bit, and probably put you on free weights so you can concentrate on building the muscles in each arm separately, in case one is stronger than the other."

"Ah, that makes sense."

"I told you that you could do it. See? You're stronger than you think."

At that point, the blond woman who oversees the kids' gymnastics/cheerleading/tumbling portion of the gym came over to say hello. I realized she'd been listening to the entire conversation from the other side of the desk. "I feel kinda bad for saying this while shoving a muffin in my face, but you've been making excellent progress. You're in here nearly every day."

While my ego liked the petting, it was disconcerting to realize that what is for me an intensely private struggle is outwardly visible to others. Each day, I come in, rinse out and refill my water bottle, grab my chart, and turn on my headphones. I smile to other people in the gym, but with the exception of Laura, it's rare for me to say anything to anyone else. When I'm doing weight work, I'm not looking around the gym to see what other people are doing; I'm concentrating on finishing a set or letting my muscles rest for the next set. When I'm doing cardio, I've got my headphones on, and more often than not, my eyes are closed and my mind is far, far away.

I think I try to block out the other people in the gym because I assume that perhaps they need the same amount of privacy that I often do. We share the same workout space, but we don't know each other, and conversation seems ... intrusive, and about as welcome as the guy next to you on the bus who talks not because he has anything to say, but because he feels he must fill the silence.

Strange to think that, despite my silence, someone's been paying attention. I may like my invisibility, but sometimes it helps to know that I'm not always so.

* * * * *

In other news, it's hard not to get antsy to see even a bit of scale-related results after two weeks of work. I've gained one pound each week for the two weeks I've been working out, and even though I know why it's happening, it's still a bit frustrating. I know the drill: I'm gaining muscle weight at the same time I'm losing fat weight, and for the time being, the muscle weight is winning.

Even though I'm beginning to see some differences in how my clothes fit, I'd like to see a downward numerical trend. I know that it will happen, if I'm patient.

* * * * *

For most people, their struggle to lose weight involves eating less. For me, it's learning to eat more - much more. After getting started, and telling Jeff that my workout regimen required me to eat more, he looked relieved, and that was when I began to feel a bit of fear.

"There were so many days that you'd forget to eat, all day, and by the end of the day you'd be tired and shaky."

I can't even begin to express the irony in this; me, who buried her own personal hell in a mountain of food for eight years, had apparently slid far, far in the other direction. I knew that there were days - more than I care to admit - in which I'd first remember to eat around three in the afternoon, but it scared me to realize that other people noticed. Other people knew.

I can't correct this in two weeks. I've had to set up a routine in the morning which includes eating, and to make a point to take some time after a workout to eat. Otherwise, it's easy to say, "I'll just get something later in the afternoon," which inevitably translates to waiting until dinner with Jeff.

I have to believe that with time, this routine will become easier.

With that said, it's time for me to stop saying "I'll grab some lunch once I finish writing," and actually get that lunch.