Words to live by…and words you should never say!

There are words to live by and there are words you should not say, ever. I know this now. Lindsey is back in town and we are in full swing again with our workouts!  We met Tuesday night to ease back into things as I have to say my crazy work life has not been kind to my gym life, but I am realizing that sometimes life is crazy and you do what you can and get back to the routine as soon as possible, it’s okay!  I can tell you that I felt the disconnect though from not working out, nothing felt right. I was antsy, and grumpy and the food cravings and choices were harder than they have been (okay, fine… some of that might have been my raging hormonal time of the month) but not all of it and the “eating less” needs to hold hands and snuggle up close to the  “moving more ” because one without the other is one big fat  broken, dysfunctional marriage.

Back at it on Tuesday I gleefully express words that I would soon regret…what was I thinking!? I blurted out loud and proud to Lindsey “I really kinda miss being sore” who says something like that? The minute I said it I saw the evil gleam in her eyes and I was right, next day was hard… REALLY hard. At one point my arms shook, my muscles refuse and I began cussing… that just makes Lindsey laugh, then I laugh and my arms collapse like a flan in the cupboard. Truth be told THAT is what I miss, working hard, being pushed to exhaustion and having a good time in the middle of it all.

 

Me wondering if I will be able to move without a struggle the next day, and Cruella next to me laughing.... knowing I won't.

 

 

While I joke about being sore, it is true, I miss when I don’t work out. When I don’t move my body, when I silence my body then my mind screams with doubt and it becomes easy to question everything. The numbers on the scale remain so, so hard for me to understand and accept. I try not let them control the direction in which I march forward but it does seem like a very slow trip sometimes. A few days ago, I pulled out the jeans I wore at the beginning of the dog-lbs project and put them on, zipped them up, buttoned them and took a step back. They fell down. I picked them up again and held them in place looking at how my body used to fill the large space. Staring at the worn denim and remembering how I would unbutton them if I overate because they were too tight, the marks they would leave on my waist and the shame still lingering on them for me to taste. These jeans are the perfect reminder of how far I have come and just how far I can go is limitless.

 

The number on the scale is only part of my story.

 

 

 

2 Comments

  1. Debbie R says:

    That smile says it all!!!! You go girl!!! Forget the numbers, just know that you have made an amazing difference in the quality of not only your life, but the lives of homeless dogs! Very proud of you!

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