I LOST A POUND! One whole lard-filled pound. Well, maybe it was more water-filled, but I think I counted one less dimple on my left butt cheek and, like Martha Stewart would say, "That is a good thing."
The past few days haven't been easy, but I've found myself strangely drawn to exercise. To push my body just a little bit harder. To see how red I can make my face.
And, to be completely honest, it feels damn good. I had forgotten how my body reacts when I don't pump my veins full of salt and fat, mostly in the form of delicious, delicious french fries from Wendy's -- my all-time favorite edible splurge. Well, besides ice cream. And maybe chocolate. And definitely my mom's little crab appetisers. ... Okay, so the fries are my all-time favorite salty splurge.
But it's happening. After a little more than a week, I've started to form a habit. I know because when I considered bypassing my daily run yesterday, I couldn't do it. I felt too guilty. So I put on my running shoes. Then I ran farther.
And that one small change is snowballing: I'm eating better. I'm sleeping better. I feel better.
So when my reward showed up in the form of a little less mass when I stepped on my scale, I celebrated like it was 10 pounds. Because I haven't seen that scale go in the downward direction in a long, long time.
And my newly fewer-dimpled ass is inspiring Jerry, too. He recently inherited a weight set from a friend and decided to set up a mini gym in our basement. I used to be impressed that I could lift my measly 10-pound hand weights for multiple reps, but when I saw him curl 40 pounds with nothing more than a bit of an eye squint, I decided I'm a wuss. A big girly wuss who almost dropped one of those 40-pound weights when I tried to see if I could do it, too.
I can't. Not even close.
In fact, I think if I had held onto it any longer, my small intestine would've popped out of my butt.
So I'm sticking with what works for me. And if it's running for just a few minutes every day, well, I consider that a step in the right direction.