It’s all going to work together. It’s fucking holistic, is what it is. I am going to type a hundred words at a clip, no difficult feat after so much practice, then I am going to run around my condo like a madwoman, slug some water and play some more Mass Effect. Then, I will repeat the cycle. Because I have done a lot of good things today, like a load of laundry, and made a pot of soup out of my own invented recipe, but I have also not done near enough movement. Seriously, a whole day off and not even 3000 steps is a bit lame.
I am back! Huzzah! This plan is going swimmingly. Right. It doesn’t matter if I don’t make perfect sense at the moment to you, because I’m making this work for me. I need to get more active in my life as well as keep up with the commitments and desires I have to be still and staring at a screen. You should see how bloodshot my eyes are right now. You’d think I’d been on some sort of three week bender. There’s gotta be some hyphens in that phrase, three-week? At any rate, I like being busy. I worry sometimes I keep myself running at such a clip so I don’t sit down and analyze myself properly. Even keeping this journal, the running and the speed production of text goes a lot way to keep any meaning out of the message. I am aware. And that really is the first step.
Steps. Yes. When I take a look at my little fitbit, it’s amazing to me how you can get 7500, 8000 steps in a day and not be aware of how much that is but just trying to get from 3500 to 4000 seems impossible. You can feel the muscles pulsing and flickering in your legs and thighs and every step is pressure against the floor, the feeling of the sock gripping and slipping against the texture of the rub, the friction distracting. It all becomes very distracting. But I’m not giving up, I’m just finding my slippers and goose-stepping my way back and forth across the living room. I defeated the treacherous villainry of my birthday, and I ended up losing weight this morning down to a whoppingly insignificant and sure to wobble 161.8, so I can’t fall backwards into all my sloth and gluttonry just a matter of days later.
Tomorrow, we’re going to do some cooking with my mother. I haven’t told her about how much weight I have or haven’t loss, despite being tempted. It doesn’t make sense to do it now. It just causes weird bars to be set that I didn’t agree I wanted to leap over. I want to make the best use of her support that I can and not allow it to get twisted into control or rewards or her expectation that I will only be valuable as a tiny, thin pixie. And not allow myself to take on any expectation other than I’m going to continue working on eating healthy, moving the ol’ body, and observing the cosmos.