As the seasons have hastily changed (no, really, can it be any colder for October?), autumn no longer easing into us but superbly beating us to the back of our closets where we keep our folded sweaters and draped cute scarves, I sigh in disbelief over how quickly summer has crept up and is now OFFICIALLY gone.
The passing of time has been an alibi in the writing department for my uninspired ideas, my laziness and legit lack of time. But I have made a vow to end this “dry spell” and I am keeping my word. Besides my although-at-times-much-dreaded-but-also-much-needed 9 to 5, I have been forced to pick up some part-time side work. This hasn’t quite been the most fruitful endeavor of mine due to my impatience, low bullshit and disrespect tolerance and yet overall “thin-skinned” character, but I’d rather keep it short and sweet: I am NOT one to serve people’s food. (More on this lovely topic in a future post!)
Fairly recently, I have forced my days to start brightly around 5AM, with a half hour of strength training and approximately 45minutes to one hour of cardio at the lovely gym whose membership I decided to put to the best use possible. The gym/working out/fitness has had a tremendous importance in my life. Growing up, I was the chubby kid. Yes, a HUGE fat-kid complex case I am. Being far from the truly hurting “F” word hadn’t made me feel better or more at ease throughout the years, even when hormonal changes dictated my body to drop some pounds. Battling borderline-depression at an early age and having broken an ankle, I temporarily turned to food for comfort. Although I can’t say I have been brought up as a big eater, I had to come to much-dreaded terms of acceptance with the reality of my body: for leaner arms – bicep/triceps push/pull-ups; for toner legs and a shaped toosh – butt-blasting squats and lunges. Flat tummy? Only with no sweets and about one thousand sit-ups. I got used to tying in hour-long strengthening classes, Zumba, yoga, kickboxing, while the treadmill and elliptical machines became my good friends. Although I am far from being “there,” the results are slowly but steadily showing and all the (blood) sweat and tears are paying off. And I must say, I feel AMAZING.
This is my body. This is my life. But that doesn’t stop me from at times still feeling that people who feast on carbs and fats all hours of the day and night and consider walking their dog or to the train/car their daily workout routine need to seriously get stricken by a malicious genital infestation.