Happy Fat

Well, it's happened, guys.  I've officially become fat and happy and I'm not so happy about that.  I knew my clothes had been fitting a bit more tightly later, but I didn't think too much of it, probably on purpose.  I'd also been avoiding the scale for the same reason.  Well, I got on the scale this morning and I'm officially at my highest weight ever.  EVER.  It's about 2-3 pounds higher than my previous higher weight and it made me cringe.

I know I'm strong.  I have some not awful muscles I've developed from my training sessions.  But I've basically given up on cardio.  I do it twice a week at best lately. For thirty minutes at a time.  I used to do it 5-6 times a week for an hour at a time.  WTF has happened to me?

Actually, I know the answer to that.  I moved way the hell away from civilization and my commute increased exponentially.  It's winter and it's cold as hell, and after I get home just shy of 7pm each night and finally eat dinner, the last thing I want to do is put on gym clothes and go BACK out into the cold.  I should be in bed by 10:30 at the very latest, so I hardly have any free time after dinner and before bed.  I hate spending what I do have at the gym!  Also, I moved in with the person I love. I like spending time with this person, and I like cooking dinner with him and watching The X-Files with him and curling up with him on the couch.  I like all of that better than I like going to the gym.

It's bizarre because I love how the gym makes me feel once I'm there and moreso once I'm done.  I love feeling stronger and seeing muscles get more defined and increasing my weights at the gym.  I just hate getting myself there.  I hate that I have to sacrifice doing the things I enjoy for something I need to do.  But damn....if my encounter with the scale this morning is any indication, I definitely need to do it, anyway.

I don't want to be fat and happy.  Honestly, I'm too old to be fat and happy and not have that be a health risk.  It's all so interconnected in the most basic, obvious way.  I eat my stress, my exhaustion, my work frustrations, my commute annoyances.  I go home and lay around and make 100 different excuses of why I can't go to the gym.  My head hurts.  I'm too hungry.  I'm so tired.  I have to do laundry.  I need to wash my hair.  What about the X-Files episode?  I'll go tomorrow.  I'll go twice this weekend.  I'll run the stairs at work.  Bullshit.

I've hit rock bottom here.  I'm trying not to beat myself up too much because I know exactly how to right all of these wrongs.  I know how to fix it.  I know I can do it because I've done it before, but that doesn't make it any less daunting.

I have to get into a swimsuit next weekend at the chalet in the Poconos for our hot tub time.  :-o Also, I'm super tired of all of my work pants fitting so damn tight.  Buttons digging into your stomach all day is NOT SEXY.

Unfortunately, I can't get to the gym tonight either.  I'm taking Metro out to a station where BF will pick me up so we can get a quick dinner and then go see Kathy Griffin.  Nothing to do about that.  I guess I will just focus on being as active as I can today--taking the stairs, not snacking a ton, doing a set of squats and lunges and calf raises in my office over lunch.  Ha!  Better than nothing.

Luckily after tonight we have a weekend, and it will be a very good challenge for me.  It's supposed to be brutally cold outside.  :-o  Nonetheless, I'm going to make it my goal to go to the gym Friday, Saturday and Sunday.  We'll start there---small goals!  I have to do something!

I'm all for being happy, but I don't think I need the fat part in there, too.  ;-)