Worries

I have never been more out of shape, heavier, or more unhappy with my body. It’s a strange feeling, to feel like there’s this piece of you (in my case, a tire around my waist) that you absolutely hate. I feel tortured by it, depressed by it, and that feeling interrupts my thoughts constantly.

This thinking doesn’t do me any favors – I know this. The negativity and stress only makes it harder for me to lose the weight. The negativity and stress only causes me to eat more sweets. It’s a cycle I know I need to break, but it’s the path forward, the way to move my thoughts beyond my present self-consciousness to my future health, that eludes me.

I am 5’6″ and 139 pounds. This is not huge, but it’s definitely not me. I’m used to a ballerina or weightlifter’s body – a supple, muscular and capable tool I can use for whatever suits my whims. I’ve never been athletic in the sports sense, but I was lithe and strong and flexible, and I miss that.

It’s only been a year, so I know I can get back there. A combination of a torn ACL, crazy work hours, patellar tendinitis and a long distance relationship brought me to this place. I know myself, and I know I don’t do well without committing to something.

So here’s my pledge:

I will write here each day, instead of eating shit. This will serve as a stress relief. If I do eat poorly, I will write about that, too.

I will get SOME FORM of exercise every day. I don’t need to lift every day or run every day, but I will move every day, even if that means walking with Frankie for an hour.

I will socialize with friends at least once a week. This helps me not get too depressed or introverted, which leads to my binge eating in my apartment.

I will look forward to moving back in with Emile as a motivation to look good, but absolutely not an excuse to wait on making changes.

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