Keep At It

Well, ended up eating pizza and started the long downward Oh Fuck This slide. Realized again that I am not doing that anymore. Went and lifted weights with Trevor and it made all the difference. Nothing like 20 pounds off my body to make the warm up (treadmill) easier. And I haven't lost as much lean as I anticipated because I can still KICK ASS on legs. And did as many abs as hubby did.

Sometimes it takes a friend or husband or someone to literally drag you out of the doldrums. Nothing like the Nike ad re: Just Do It. I immediately felt better physically, and then of course, mentally perked up, felt less avoidant and anxious, and you know the rest.

Why is it so hard to remember this feeling, this recall that yes, I can do this, that yes, it's just a lifted weight, a walk on the treadmill or the putting down of pizza away?

Sadness and despair creep in, like a fog. The deal with my parents, taking on extra hard cases, trying to (always) re-invent my practice to keep up with the economy and the changing times and the needs of my population, not sleeping, it all catches up with a person. And then you are sitting eating pizza and FORTUNE COOKIES (jesus - fortune cookies?) at the computer and feeling despair and that you will never take off the last 30 lbs.

And so, you must begin again and again and again... and no matter if I have to begin anew every fucking 10 minutes, then I suppose that it what it takes. Because what is the alternative? The slide into helplessness? A rage against advancing age and sagging flesh? Fuck That.

I'm dusting off my damn George Foreman.

And I'm finishing this report that as I write it, makes me despair of humanity the absolute lack of empathy parents show for children. I've got loud Detroit MoTown playing. That is helping.

Keep At It.

Keep At It.

Keep At It.