I am full of the joys of spring this morning, in fact it would be fair to say that I haven’t stopped grinning since yesterday morning’s conversation with the Shitbird Scale. And it’s not like I bagged a massive number or anything, it just wasn’t nought point fuck all, and that on its own was enough to inspire my happy dance. One and three quarter pounds off, which takes me under my pre-Cuba weight, and that means it’s all virgin territory from here.
Well, I say that…it’s virgin this time around. Obviously I’ve popped this particular cherry many times before, on the way up and on the way down again, in fact I’ve hung out in the two thirties forties and fifties most of my adult life. But, this time is the last time, right? I don’t intend to see this number again. It had a nice ring to it yesterday. Two hundred and forty four pounds. Today it’s already getting old. When I weighed two hundred and forty six, two four four was appealing. Now it’s not. Now two four two looks like the place to be, dare I even say two four one and I’m on it like a car bonnet.
Most exciting of all is that the experiment with how and when I spend my food budget did seem to give the needle a bit of a shove, you know? I mean I know it’s only week one and it might have been a complete coincidence, but all the same I’m going to do it again this week to try and keep the momentum going. I know a few of you were going to give it a go too and I’m dying to know how you’ve all got on.
I barely worked out last week, in fact I only managed one class. God of Pain has restricted me to the only one I can do with my knackered knee, and breaking news on that front is that the physio thinks I’ve torn the cartilage. He’s suggested I go get an MRI scan to confirm one way or the other. If it is torn, I’ll probably need surgery but you know what, I refuse to get down about it. I’m frustrated more than anything because apart from the fact that it hurts like a bitch, it’s stopping me from working out.
And who the fuck ever thought those words would come out of my mouth?
I’m slowly cottoning on to the fact that those are my actual thoughts. I mean, seriously…on one day last week I had open season on my food budget, and I wimped out. I had permission, a hall pass for a whole day with a ton of points at my disposal and I went to bed with some of them left on the table. And now, I’ve got a bone-fide excuse not to work out, and instead of hurling myself into the recliner with sheer relief that I don’t need to break a sweat any time soon, I’m pissed off at the interruption to my fitness schedule.
I’ve talked a good game you know, for the last 18 months in terms of working all this out but there was definitely an element of fake it ’till you make it…saying and doing are all very well, and credit where it’s due, you know? Doing when you don’t feel it is tough. You have to dig in, when you don’t really want to. Thing is, when you do start feeling it…well, that’s the game changer isn’t it?
The moment you realise you’re done faking it, is the moment you dare to believe it’s for keeps 🙂