Remember when I was single-mindedly focused, disciplined and motivated??
Yeah, me neither. Seems it’s been such a long-assed time since I saw my old friend Discipline that I’ve developed an inability to look down and see my own feet as of late.
Okay, maybe my newest friend, Eggs Agerator, has taken over here. Or perhaps it's my other friend Miss Taken. My food baby has grown plump, but I can still see my shoes…when they’re sitting on the steps across the room, and I’m not too far from the stairs (my eyesight’s failing a bit these days). And I can still button my pants, albeit barely, though a belt is completely unnecessary at the moment.
You’d think that the ole workhorse Mo Tivator would step in to help me give birth to this food baby by forcing me to eat raw veggies and hit the workouts instead of munching down the little bowl of potato chips I’m thinking of refilling as we speak. (Uh, isn’t it considered exercise to walk all the way to the kitchen to fill the bowl and then all the way back here to the recliner in the living room?? Hmph.) “Put the chips down, and get on the damned exercise bike, you lazy cow!!” That’s what Mo would say, if A. Pathy wasn’t pinning him down on the floor, helped out by Dee Pressed’s hand held tight over Mo’s mouth.
It’s not that I’m a lazy personality. Or maybe, it’s not that I wasn’t a lazy personality…damn, those double negatives are nastiness. What I mean to say is once upon a time, laziness would not have been a characteristic that one would have attached to the picture of me in a dictionary. (In truth, my picture would be on the page where one finds the word “unphotogenic”, but I digress…)
Energetic. That’s how I would have characterized myself back in the day. Then life happened. Again. And again. And again. Yeah, life sure kicks the crap out of you, and the past ten years, give or take, I’ve been taking more than my share of beatings. Not as many as some, but more than my energetic system can recover from. (Shit. Remember when I cared enough about written English that I didn’t end a sentence with a preposition? *waxes nostalgic* Yeah, those were the days.) Point is: perpetual emotional pain drains the life right out of you.
All I know is that, somehow, I’d better figure it out before I make it as Biggest Loser (on so very many levels) material. With Jillian gone in the upcoming seasons, who would tell me that puking isn’t an excuse to get off the treadmill to go hide and feel all sorry for myself?? Nope. I’m going to have to ride my own ass here, people. Get up and get going, recliner potato!! Tired?!? So is everyone else on the planet, you big whiiiner!!
Well, chip bowl is empty. It’s a war of wills. Me against Myself and I. Now to figure out which side says, “Fill the bowl!!”, and TAKE. IT. OUT…
…for sushi. Sushi’s healthy, right? *sighs, shaking head* Just pathetic…
