So I've gained some weight. How much, I have no idea. I don't own a scale and I refuse to use the one at the gym or the hospital. I don't feel that numbers really give me an accurate picture of where I'm at. But that bulge of pudge hanging over the waistband of my pants? Very telling. As I stood there in the bathroom pondering my freshly-baked muffin top, I thought to myself, "I need to do something about that."
I'm not at the point of no return...the point where I throw in the towel and get myself to mall for some bigger pants. For one, I'm much too cheap for that. For two, jeans shopping is the THE WORST. I hate it. There are few things I hate more than jeans shopping (Cilantro tops the list, of course, people not using their blinker or driving under the speed limit is a close second). I haven't purchased a new pair of jeans in years, partly because I can't fathom the shopping, and partly because I feel that most of the jeans on the market these days are downright ugly and cheaply made. I don't want rhinestones adorning my behind, I don't want so much stretch that after a couple hours of wear the butt is so saggy that it looks like I crapped myself, and I don't want overly aggressive fading or tears. I just want a nice pair of jeans that fits well and doesn't make me look like a stuffed sausage or a complete frump. One would think I could find this relatively easy. Perhaps I'm just not trying hard enough.
Or, perhaps I just need to quit being such a lazy glutton. It's true that I don't exercise as much as I should. It's also true that I don't eat as well as I should. The ultimate truth is that I suffer from a lack of motivation for just about everything. I could come up with a plethora of excuses to explain away my lack of exercise and good eating habits. Including, but not limited to: I work night shift and at 2am those fried chicken tenders, taquitos, and that bright orange mac and cheese (where does that color come from anyway?) look far better than a salad ever will; I've lost all motivation for cooking, despite the fact that my freezer and pantry are literally overflowing with food options; I put off eating until I'm literally starving, at which point going to Chipotle or eating peanut butter right out of the jar are the only things that will suffice. I could go on, but I won't. An excuse is just that...an excuse.
So am I going to do anything about it? Not today, I'm not. And maybe not tomorrow either. Although I do plan on going to the gym tomorrow. This is my favorite instructor's last week of teaching before she moves back East. I'm super bummed, because she's one of the few people who can get a giggle out of me whilst in the middle of 200 reps of squats, when all I'd really like to do is throw down the bar and go eat something savory and incredibly unhealthy...and decidedly not green.
Simon has started making smoothies for us. He's pretty good at it, although they're not as sweet as I would like...I don't know if anything could be as sweet as I would like and still be healthy. So I choke them down. The other day he put beets in one of the smoothies, which I didn't realize until a panicked trip to the bathroom left me thinking that I might want to pay a visit to the local ER to make sure I wasn't bleeding internally. Damn beets. I do love them, but the aftermath is disturbing.
So here we are. I'm sitting on exercise ball as I type this. Not so much for the fitness of it, but because the chair I was using was too tall, causing me to slouch which was in turn making my back ache. So I sit on the ball and tell myself that I'm actually passively "exercising." While I drink a mocha and peruse the internet trying to find a suitable bus to live out of. Do you think it helps to bounce on the ball whilst sitting on it? I'm bouncing on it right now. I'm telling myself that the muffin top is melting away with each tap of the keyboard. I'm delusional. And definitely not wearing the proper bra for bouncing.
Over and out.
No comments:
Post a Comment