This week has not been the best "fitness" week. After the Eight Pounds blog, I weighed myself the next day and realized I really need to lose 10#. A bit depressing. My morning ritual goes a bit like this: I drag myself out of bed and into the bathroom; I look at myself in the mirror and say "oh, it looks like I'm thinner today"; I pull out the scale and weigh myself; I open my eyes wide and say "oh shit, I gained weight... AGAIN!"; I jump in the shower, more depressed than the day before.
But then to make myself feel better, I squeeze into a pair of jeans and say "but for my age, I look pretty darn good." And find a shirt that will cover up Ricardo the Vino Chub, without highlighting his presence too much.
Let's face it, I know what I need to do. I just don't want to do it. Trying to figure out why I'm struggling with something that I want to be part of my everyday life is an ongoing mental analysis. I always have that "Tomorrow" thought in the back of my mind.
Today was a workout day - I'm going to call it full body, since we did a little leg work, back and chest. So now, instead of just one body part hurting tomorrow, it will be all three. BG, as usual, laughed at me when I did side shuffles. After 8 years he still thinks that one day I will be coordinated when I do these (and many other exercises). Let's face it, coordination is not something in my genes. Side shuffling is a distant cousin to running, and anyone who knows me and has seen me run knows there is no hope for me in this area.
The rest of this week has been focused on house projects, which do require a fair amount of physical labor. So although I didn't make it to the gym, I did lift, squat, sweat, and CURSE every day this week. And there is an amount of personal reward in seeing the end results. So far, it hasn't resulted in my smaller jeans fitting me again, but it has resulted in me thinking if I had company, I wouldn't be embarrassed.
Stay strong. No pain no gain.
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