Friday, January 02, 2015
Reality is a mother.
And not the nice kind that brings comfort and cookies.
No, Reality is the eye-opening slap to the cheek when you see yourself looking back from a picture in which you are twice the size that you envision yourself. She is the mean girl who snaps your strap and splits your seam. She can be the B-word, if you let her.
Ms. Reality paid a little unwelcome visit yesterday, but she did me a favor. Today I acknowledged her--rather than letting her make me feel guilty, degraded, sad, or depressed, I took her to the gym. We broke a sweat and came home and had a healthy dinner.
She will soften with time, this Reality of mine, and eventually we will be able to be friends. I might even begin to enjoy her *before* she matches what I want to see in the mirror. But for right now, she is simply my silent motivator and workout partner.