Day 1

I'm smart. I know that mathematically, weight loss would result from expending more calories than I consume. I know that I should not eat a pint of ice cream in one sitting. I know that 8 out of 10 people* who have bodies I admire, work really hard for them. So I figure any defiance of this knowledge is a conscious decision to be fat. I had to ask myself:

"Self, do you choose to be fat?"

My immediate reaction was to say no, yet the choices I make daily are in direct contradiction. I had to admit that the answer was actually yes. This was a heavy leaden thunk of a fact to swallow.**

I've always been on the bigger side... which while pretty subjective, I just mean to say adjectives like: curvy, thick, and my favorite "healthy" were often used to describe me. That's all fine and well. I'm not attempting to look like a supermodel but I do aspire to be MY best self. I'd rather not develop cancer or heart disease but I'd also really like to wear leather leggings. Health is the p.c. answer for inspiration but I'm as vain as the next gal so I'm also in it for the fashion. I am a Stylist after all but that's a whole other story of mind fuckery.***

Anyway, the other week I was reminded that it takes 21 days to form a habit. I'd heard this a hundred times before but for some reason this time it bounced around my head while the person continued talking. All I really kept thinking was,

"But then what?"

What happens on the twenty-second day after your mental carrot of the magical 21 days is over? I'm great at starting something. Especially over the weekend (today is Saturday and I've started this blog). But what's going to happen next Wednesday when I don't feel like getting up? When I look at the alarm clock and realize that while I could go downstairs and work out (I have a gym in my building; I mean how lazy am I geez...), I could also sleep for another hour. Forget day twenty-two, I should name this blog day four. My goal (hope, dream, prayer) is that this blog, like my new exercise life, goes beyond 22 days.

Right now... the deal I've made with myself is that for the next 21 days I have to do SOMETHING that counts as exercise. At a minimum of 30 minutes at some point in the day. If I can't resist the snooze button in the morning--fine but that means I have to workout that evening. I figure there must be some degree of flexibility in there somewhere or I'm setting myself up for failure and disappointment. Walking (briskly) part of the way to or from work for instance, could count.

I'm logging off to go to the gym (as mentioned, it's right downstairs), but I'm already eyeing things I could do instead. Loading the dishwasher seems really important all of a sudden. This is going to be hard.



*I happen to work around a lot of models. Who, yes, are people but not like you and I! In defense of their genetic freakiness, many of them work hard to maintain their biological advantage.

**My instinct was to make a self-deprecating joke about the irony of the word "swallow" within a blog about weight loss but decided to stop picking on myself.

***Being a complicit cog in the machine of the Beauty Industrial Complex whilst opposing it can really mess with your head!