6.30: wake up
7.20: leave for work
5.10: arrive home
6.05-7.00: make dinner
7.00-7.30: eat dinner
7.30-9.45: chores, life enjoyment, whatever
How often this happens: never.
I haven’t done aerobics in a couple of weeks now. There, okay? I’m ashamed of it, but there it is. I’ve been trying to compensate with my diet, but it’s not going perfectly (because this is life, and nothing ever does). I’m frustrated by the woolly layer of flab around my midsection, by my bra cutting into flesh, by the discomfort of my jeans-which-were-loose-in-recent-memory. The numbers that resulted from BF measuring me for the sake of ordering the wedding dress to my measurements were sort of awful.
The things that keep me from exercising include wanting to rest (largely), the siren song of movies to watch, more complicated dinners that require more time, the hypoglycemia raring up just before I get home so that I have to skip straight to making dinner (or picking it up), more chores than time, working late, doing other stuff after work so that I don’t get home until bedtime, or allowing the internet to distract me until I look up and it’s 6:00 already, and I’m starving, and my time for exercise has expired.
I used to be able to push through all these excuses like so much mist, just insisting to myself that I go straight upstairs and change into my exercise clothes and get to it. Or insisting to myself that I get out of bed at 6:00 and go out and jump around to a muted TV while BF slumbers. Or…just…insisting. GO AND DO IT, YA LOAD. I don’t know why this insisting does not work any longer.
But I have a suspicion. I think that my mind is actually pretty comfortable with how my body looks. I think my under-conscious is telling me that BF thinks I’m desirable, I look good in a dress, I’m not unhealthy, and I need to just relax and not worry about the extra 6-8 pounds I’d like to lose. Yoga is keeping me reasonably fit, it’s just not taking off any excess, nor is it making me as fully toned as I’d like to be. I have the motivation of the upcoming wedding, but it’s way too far away to motivate me effectively.
Maybe part of the problem is the mindset of the ideal schedule. I know that for a long time I allowed even the tiniest imbalance in my life to upset all the remaining events, so that if I was 5 minutes late coming home I would just say, screw it, I can’t make dinner tonight. This is the equivalent of saying that you can’t wear an outfit because a single thread is slightly loose under the hem: ridiculous, and fixable. In trying to play a little faster and looser with my life – actually something of a New Year’s resolution of mine – I feel like I’ve gotten over this a little. (A very little.) But feeling as if the schedule is really the issue, rather than my own semi-mysterious reluctance, is still a problem. O, this unclimbable mountain of my too-busy life, whatever shall I do to keep fit? Ungh. Quit yer whinin’ and put on your sneakers already.
Should I accept this body as Just Fine (because it is, it’s strong and lovely and while I don’t look like the ideal Vogue version of me, I’m also not in the hospital with anemia)? Or should I try and dig out my motivation from somewhere?