Monday, Monday Week 3

Oh it's Monday. I didn't blog on Friday. I just didn't feel like it, so I didn't. I had high hopes for Friday. Friday was my 10th day of exercise. My day was planned out, I would be home alone from 7:10 a.m. until at least 9:30. A whole list of exercises to do, fun things. Well school had a 2 hour delay, that meant me driving Danny to school leaving here at 9:00... o.k., well I'll just do my exercises when Dan leaves for work. Nope, I took a nap. Danny got home from school at 3:00... I was still a slug. Worse than a slug. Finally around 5:00 I decided I better do something, anything. I found a Tai Chi video. Not much, but at least I moved... a little bit.

I also ate a couple of cookies on Friday. Yep, that's right, cookies... On Saturday when I went to the grocery store I was hungry and it was lunch time, I stopped at the hot food case and bought 2 chicken tenders and a small container of mac-n-cheese...yummmm..... until it caused me to sit in the bathroom more times than I would have liked to on a Saturday afternoon. Sorry TMI. Sunday, Super Bowl Sunday. Yes, Danny and I had pizza and wings, also had some nachos. Wasn't the best food, but I didn't over do like I normally would. Feeling like a slug again today.

Around 4:30 I decided I had best do something. I try to exercise before dinner. And trust me dinner tonight wasn't difficult. Condensed soup in a can and a few peanut butter crackers. Wasn't much, but it did fill me and Danny up. It's cold outside and was a source of comfort. Anyway, back to my exercise story. I went into my Pinterest Boards and picked this for my work out. (Just click on work out.) Danny was downstairs doing his thing and I figured I would just do mine, by myself. I started into it. Coordination isn't one of my finer qualities, I was doing the best I could. Around the 19 minute mark I started having problems. Couldn't keep up, coordination was worse, I have no rhythm. I was watching the women doing it, all plus size and they weren't having any problems, why was I? Danny came upstairs a few minutes later, right as I was entering into my misery... my self pity party. He joined me in moving, he was just moving around the living room, then he put his arm around me when we were doing the leg kicks, just like the Rockettes, right....  Then it came time to do the routine over again, from the beginning, it was faster, more advanced. I was having problems keeping up. I said I can't do this, apparently out loud and Danny tells me I'm doing great, "Do what you can Mom." I would pick up where I could... then it came time again to do the routine  from the beginning, I followed until I couldn't follow anymore. I started crying, who starts crying in the middle of a work out? Me, that's who. Again I said out loud, "I can't do this, I just can't do this." Danny rubbed my shoulder and said, "Mom you're doing great, just keep moving. It's o.k. if you can't keep up. You don't have to do the whole thing. Just keep moving." Then he hugged me and told me it's o.k. I did the cool down, then off to the kitchen I went to start dinner. That's when my pity party started rockin'. I cried and cried. Crying is something I do best. I cry when I'm mad, sad, happy, hear a song on the radio, think of a memory, read a children's book. I even cry while watching the Walking Dead. I kept thinking about the work out, not sure why this one was so difficult for me and why I couldn't keep up. Then my mind goes off and I get mad at myself. Mad because I'm like this, mad because I can't move as well as others. Mad because I'm a gigantic, fat, unattractive, (insert Sharon Peters, Chuck Geiger, the Macher brothers and Danny Johnston's comments that I can hear every single day in my head) beached whale. You name it, I was feeling it and I was thinking it and I was mad and sad and most of all disappointed in myself.

Well, (insert heavy sigh here) tomorrow is another day. My track record for getting to another day has been 100%. As soon as I wake up tomorrow morning, this day will be behind me. I just have to keep on climbing. It's not a race and it's not how fast I reach the top, getting there is what matters the most, no matter how long it takes.

Again, I would just like to mention that I'm not writing and sharing this blog for attention. This is part of my therapy for myself. For those that have been reading it and have commented, on here, on fb or in actual conversation, thank you. Thank you for your words of encouragement. If you would like to be a follower, please do. You can do it through Google over on the right side.

This is my blog, my words, my thoughts, my feelings.