“He’s catching up” someone said.
“Yeah…” I responded, totally blahh.
It’s depressing. This week he’s been digging out his old clothes. The one’s he thought would never see the light of day again. Apparently his current pants are no longer current. It’s too loose. That and the fact that his existing tee’s hang like a towel on him and his work shirts now look like they were fashioned from the James Bond wardrobe for the perfectly tailored fit.
Jealousy does not begin to describe it. I mean, I’m proud of my man. He looks great and getting hotter by the week. But the question is, what about me?
This week, I was a rebel. Not because I had a point to prove. I just didn’t want to do it anymore. I ditched exercise in favour of the age old excuse – I don’t have time, I’m too busy. I did find time to do two uninspiring sessions of tele-watching-half-hearted- leg-lifts and jumps….but that was about it. My diet was a lukewarm reception of eating right at breakfast, bingeing at lunch and feeling guilty at dinner. I was so lost. I felt lost. I lost my focus. I don’t know anymore why I am doing this….and most of all, waking up early is no longer fun.
I still like the way i look in shorts but I think my silhouette still requires some major chiseling work. Pilates is still fun and the stuff I know on nutrition in my head is still there. Otherwise, my confidence is at an all time negative something to the power of infinity low and my desire to work out is at about the same place. If men have caves which they go to on a bad day, women have dark abysmal caverns too…we’re not that different.
I think I would like to stay in here for another week. The darkness all around me is very comforting. And right now, I need that.
