Friday, January 18, 2013
Yesterday, I made the decision to just do it and join the club. The thought made me infinitely happy, and I was able to get through my whole work day without having 7 mental breakdowns of mediocrity detachment and anguish. Who cares if it costs lots of money and I'm already overspending?
But, here I am. It's 9:42 and Zumba started at 9:30. I was so excited about going. I knew it would perk me up the way I needed to withstand an evening of shopping (the boy loves shopping, so I thought I'd bring him along on a visit to this little storefront of an online store I like that sells bathing suit (I'd like a new one) and somehow this has turned into an epic adventure to some outlet mall an hour away and will consume the whole day as he buys 8 billions things). I usually get grumpy and passive aggressive when we go to the mall. He doesn't get how foreign malls have been to me. I mean, with the exception of many fun malltime galavantings in highschool, I really haven't gone to malls for the subsequent 18 years of my life. I mean, I'm all for walking in circles, but I'd rather do it in a park. I go because it's the only way I can get him to walk at all. Anyway, I'm digressing.
My legs hurt today. THey are just tired and worn out. They don't want to exercise from a physical perspective. I even pooped out on my ride home last night and had the boy come get me before I hit the hills at mile 6.
I tell myself I'll go tomorrow. That I have to go tomorrow. I've been telling myself this every day since August. Now I am writing it down in my Sparkpeople blog. So, it has to happen, right? I need to do more things for me, more fun things for me that feel good.