They (still don't know who "They" are) say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Well, if that's the case, based on the past few months, I should be ready to compete in the Arnold.
Wait, what? Resisting a box of a dozen It's It ice cream sandwiches at the grocery store (not once, but twice) doesn't increase muscle mass? Oh. Well... Shit.
In that case, I guess I'll just re-affirm what's been said hundreds of times by hundreds of people in the past: Keeping off excess weight blows. I mean, I'm paraphrasing here, but am I right?
I breezed through the holidays like a champ. A champ who earned her title from competitive eating and drinking, that is. Do I regret gaining weight from November to January? Of course. Last I checked, I'm still an American woman with typical body issues. I'm also a woman who, on a less shallow level, recognizes the importance of eating clean and working out regularly to maintain adequate-to-superior health.
But did I have fun from November to January? I did, for the most part. My body became more accustomed than it should have to ingesting booze and cookies on a regular basis, but here I am, back to circuit training, eating roasted Brussels sprouts and browsing the Internet for new things I can bake with protein powder. Going through the motions, fitting back into my clothes and beating it into my head just about everyday that I'm the one who chose this path. For life. And giving up for good simply isn't an option.
Since I seem to get off on over-thinking things, I found myself blabbing my thoughts to Doug on the living room couch, like I always do. I guess that couch has become my therapy couch and Doug has become my therapist. My payment for his services? Bad jokes and stray curly hairs in the bathroom sink. FINALLY, something that doesn't put me further in debt.
During this particular blab-fest, of which I may/may not have been sober, I was venting about my frustrations with the whole eat-healthy-and-workout thing. Every few months, I feel a little burnt out from my routine. It happens. I work through it. I might rebel and blow off a workout and/or motorboat a [large] slice of cake. Or, I might go in the other direction and start baking desserts with mashed chickpeas (Note: After several attempts, I'm officially over this trend).
I declared two things: 1) Gaining weight is one of the easiest things people can do (generally speaking; I'm leaving out those who are naturally underweight and struggle to add mass) and 2) Getting up at 5 am to exercise isn't something I particularly like. In fact, 70% of the time, I despise it.
BUT...But, but, but. Here's the thing:
And it's not just about regret or guilt. Even deeper down, I know that in addition to getting off on over-thinking things, I also get off on pushing my level of physical fitness and discovering what my body is capable of achieving now that I'm no longer clinically obese. And if I come across something I can't physically achieve, well, just trying it out was pretty cool. I may or may not try it again tomorrow.
Since I'm returning from quite the lapse in posting, I struggled with what to talk about. All the cool shit I got for Christmas? Nah. A recipe I took from someone else or pictures of an omgAMAZING dinner I ate at some restaurant you'll never dine in? Meh. The latest fitness DVD I've tried? Well, this one I actually considered because there have been a few, but I'm pretty sure CollageVideo.com or Amazon will serve you well in this arena.
Just as I go through the motions of eating right and working out, I clearly went through the motions with blog posts. Instead, I decided to bring back a little honesty. A few curse words. Some pinches of criticism. A dash of me. I mean, after all, this is MY blog, so I should be permitted to fuel my ego with whatever content I want, yeah?
So where am I going with all of this? Fuck if I know. I suppose I'm trying to reintroduce fun in my life. But not necessarily the same kind of fun that helped me pack on the pounds from November to January. A less reckless form of fun. Exploring how many miles, how many sets and how many spoonfuls of Biscoff spread it takes to maintain a healthy flow, day after day after day, until I die. And thanks to the four (yes, 4) jars of Biscoff spread I won in a contest, I may find out sooner, rather than later, how a creamy concoction made with cookies correlates to death. The key word here is explore, folks. Not commit. Not obsess. I've committed to and obsessed over so many eating and workout plans over the years only to sorta hate myself along the way and give up. Rinse, repeat. What kind of crap is that? I'm tired, yo.
On a more serious note, I know that reading about others working through struggles can be a good thing. Not in a misery-loves-company kind of way and most certainly NOT in a Haha-I'm-better-than-you-at-life kind of way. But perhaps such musings can be helpful in a Wow-I'm-glad-I'm-not-the-only-one-feeling-like-this-and-now-I'm-hopeful-we-can-work-though-it-together kind of way. Ya dig? I sure hope so.