The morning after my cheat day.
I look at my phone to check the time, groaning in laziness, but knowing that I need to make amends to myself. I know and remember all of my failed weight loss attempts of the past. I would charge into them, hell bent on skinny. I did not care about health, I only wanted to be thin. High school thin, and I did not care how I had to get there. I would starve myself, taking weight loss pills and shakes, pushing myself too hard in the gym. Giving up when I hurt myself, or hit a plateau that I could not break past, or a thousand other reasons.
But today? This time? I want to succeed. I want to do this, for me. I put on my big girl pants, and tallied up the damages from yesterday, and yes, there was an ouch at the total. I exceeded my calorie count for the day by almost 800. Am I mad at myself? If I am honest, then I will tell you no, I am not mad. Am I disappointed in myself? This one is yes. But am I going to curl up into myself and quit -again? No.
I put on those gym clothes, laced up my running shoes and carried on. Did I push myself a little extra at the gym this morning? Yes, I did. I owed it to myself, a reminder that this journey will be rocky, full of peaks and valleys. I have the option of planting my butt forever in the valley, or climbing to the top of the next hill and looking back at what I just accomplished, and smiling.
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