The journey has begun once more.
Like an unrepentant alcoholic, I fell off the wagon yet again when faced with all the sweet treats I baked for Christmas.
I stopped working out, and just kept nibbling.
It’s usually my downfall. That seemingly innocent activity that comes between the cooking, the washing up and the plating of the finished dish.
I tell myself I’ll snack on vegetables, and then I’m good for a day or two, and then BAM! I backslide into my old sins…chewing sun dried tomatoes, eating canned food, white bread and candy.
I can’t ask God to help me through this; He didn’t hold the fork to my mouth and a gun to my head and command me to stuff my face.
Oh, no, this is all on me.
So I go on the Internet and I download all sorts of workouts to help me “get clean”. there’s all the old stuff I enjoy doing, plus some new workouts to bust me through the inevitable boredom that sets in every 3 weeks. Maybe because I’m a Gemini (or so I’ve been told), I am easily distracted and quickly bored. There’s the yoga routines, the belly dance drills, the military fitness test workouts, the high intensity interval workouts, the crazy 8 workout, the weight training, the cardio training…I mean, the sheer volume of exercise I’ve downloaded astonishes and worries me.
Could I (as usual) have possibly gone overboard with this latest obsession?
One week in, and I’m fine. There’s a system to the madness, a timetable for my workouts. I find myself thinking back to when I was in my 20s while I’m downward dogging on the 4th day. I remember how the biggest thing to me then was to have powerful legs. I did hours of squats, lunges and lateral slides. I walked every single day for over an hour. I think, where did I find the time?
Two weeks in, and I’ve abandoned the idea of the military fitness business, and all the other workouts that just seem too brutal for my delicate (size 18) frame…I’ll get around to them when I’m more fit. So I tell myself.
Three weeks in, and the smell of chocolate makes me nauseous. I see no changes in my body, but am willing to go the distance for the prize. Maybe if I just keep at it, my stomach will eventually be concave, like all those movie stars?
Four weeks in, and I am sad. Just read an article about how the same movie stars I admired spend thousands on trainers and exercise for hours every day. What the heck? I can’t do that? I don’t have that money!? I grumble quietly as I sweat through yet another demonic Cindy Crawford cardio session…
Five weeks in, and I’m doing “cocoa shots”, a concoction I came up with a few years ago. Antioxidant-rich pure cocoa powder with heart-protecting cinnamon, add a little hot water, and drink. Keeps me feeling full until late afternoon. I tell myself that this, combined with the early morning glass of warm water and lime will cleanse me.
Six weeks in, and I am having intensely torrid fantasies about food. Don’t even ask about the stupid workouts, I’m back to my first love by this time, walking. I do the weight training twice a week, the yoga to help me sleep and the belly dance drills just because I like watching my large, silly self in the mirror, rolling my hips around!
I’m admiring the fact that my skirts are a lot looser than they were 4weeks ago, when my sister walks in, and asks if I can teach her some basic yoga to de-stress. She’s waving a chocolate bar in my face as she asks this. I look in the mirror, look at the candy bar, look at my printouts…and faint.
Ok, I don’t literally faint, I just have an out of body experience. Waking up an hour later, I realise I’ve eaten the chocolate bar, and am now digging into the sun dried tomatoes, in my never ending lust for salt. Oh, dear, sweet Jesus!
I did it again.
Why, oh Lord, whhhhyyyyyy????????????
I’ll be damned if I’m going to keep letting my body get the better of me. Have called a personal trainer for added motivation and accountability. I’ll let you know how that goes. Have also hidden giant jar of salty, oily sun dried tomatoes. Temptation, BEGONE!