So I wrote this award-winning blog (
and that's the last time i'll mention, seriously.lol), about 2015 being my b*tch.
And it's true! So far, it HAS!
But as all good b*tches do, she has kicked my @ss like crazy!
"So I heard what you been sayin' 'bout me"
"And you do SO much?"
"Well..yeah. I've been doing pretty good..."
"Who's going to be whose b*tch??"
"Err...You're going to be MINE. That's right! That's what I said!"
"It's really not funny.
"No like, for reals"
"for reals? pssh!"
My legs are killing me. My arms are killing me. This 'winter break' thing was off the rails fantastic, and now I'm paying for it. Like REEALLY paying for it.
But I persist!
I am NOT just a new year's resolution.
There is nothing left to resolve. I am doing this.
Every year there's a batch of "I can do this NOW! Because it's a new year, a new ME!"
And people come back, thinking that a new year will bring a new attitude. It won't.
Numbers. That's all it is. A number on a scale, a date. I have an uber-smart husband who I wonder, married me because I am NOT defined by them. I don't like them. I don't understand them. They make no difference to me.
But if you say you can do THIS, I believe you.
If you say you're tired of THIS, I believe you.
So I will get on this treadmill and freakin' CRY ( and I have, because it seems so daunting, so far-reached, and so..hard)
And I will remember those nice days of NOT being on it.
But I will also remember those days of feeling fat. of less-than. of putting on eye shadow and wondering why. of having NO energy and going about my day as if I didn't really exist. Of trying to just get up off the floor like my knees weren't killing me, or running like I wasn't worried about the sound of my fat flapping around didn't bother.
It IS hard. It DOES suck. Who wouldn't rather be drinking chocolate martinis than working out???
But I WILL do this. And 2015 will be my b*tch, whether she likes it or not.