A couple nights ago, I got out of the shower and caught a glimpse of my naked self in the steamed up mirror.
I was shocked.
Fat. I got fat. AGAIN. And it wasn’t the steam making my reflection look distorted.
All the weight that I had lost had been replaced by major amounts of padding and dimples.
I dried off. Put on pajamas that covered EVERYTHING.
I went to bed. Heavy. Both in body and heart.
That morning, after coffee and breakfast, I went to change into my clothes. I grabbed some stuff to throw on.
And my pants didn’t fit. The shirt looked too tight. And I was a mess.
Then it dawned on me. The night before, the vision in the mirror…it wasn’t a nightmare. It was for real.
I had gained a lot of weight. And it didn’t disappear overnight.
I started to cry. Because I don’t know how to fix it.
I can obsessively tweet and blog. Crochet until my hands fall off. Bake. Cook. All with a passion.
But losing weight and exercising. I’m a failure.
It doesn’t help that all I do is sit on my ASS, laptop on my…LAP. Pretty much all day. I’ve become the same as my laptop. An inanimate object. The only thing moving on me are my fingers moving the only thing on my computer that moves…the cursor. Cursing me with a fatter ass.
So, just throwing something on. And expecting it to fit. Has become a thing of the past for me. And I’m NOT OK with that.
This weekend. After I cried to my husband and threatened to start smoking again, because that usually helps me to lose weight and keep it off, he left and went to Sams Club.
He brought me home a treadmill. Because my old one died. It was tragic. And my mint condition, never been used gym club membership…still sitting in mint condition and never been used.
My first treadmill took me thousands of miles, all while jiggling in the comfort of my own home. I like that. I like the convenience of having personal exercise equipment. The privacy of working out in whatever tight, mismatched outfit I may actually throw on. And because work out clothes are the only thing I can just “throw on” these days…oversized shirts and workout pants, working out at home is much more appealing to me.
So, he came home with this beautiful treadmill that has a ton of bell and quite a few whistles. We put it together ourselves. And yes, I appreciate it much more that way. Ok fine, not really. It was a pain in the ass to put together. We probably should have paid the extra money to have the professionals come out and do it right. But, I’m really excited to have it here.
To me, this is a personal dare. Having this treadmill sitting in my living room, mocking me, daring me…
No more excuses. No more saying that I just couldn’t find the time. No more being upset about how far my body has fallen…literally.
Today. It was day 1. I did the treadmill for an hour. It felt good.
I really hope I can say that today is the first day of my not being a diet and exercise failure. Ever. Again.
Now, I have to remember to cancel that darn gym membership.