Yep, I am fairly convinced that aliens have landed in the Twin Cities and have been using me in some sort of body snatching experiment.
I had planned, but didn’t succeed at making my way to the gym yesterday. My husband has been sick since Friday, and so he hasn’t been able to work out with me. That little codependent voice within convinced me that I shouldn’t go, because I know he feels bad about not being able to work out right now. Plus I know he worries about me being down there alone when the owners aren’t there. Why, I don’t know… but I love that he’s protective of me and sees me as some hot babe every guy wants to hit on. (Ha!)
At around 7:30 PM, I silently reminded myself that I had taken Thursday as a rest day, and then began the mental bludgeoning I typically give myself when I let myself down. Regret. The old me, the person that I still think of as the REAL me, would have agonized the rest of the night, then peered into the pantry to search for something that would satisfy an unjustified sugar binge. Since I have been fairly successful at keeping the kitchen free and clear of anything too good to resist, I would have had to settle for generic graham crackers. With no marshmallows or chocolate to melt in between – definitely not worth it.
Well, instead, this is what really happened after that twinge of regret: I pulled myself off the couch and away from the book I was reading, tied back my hair, and went downstairs and chugged out 30 minutes and 6.8 miles on my stationary bike:
Who is this new girl living in my house? I kind of like her. And hopefully come my weigh-in tomorrow, I will even LOVE her a little. 🙂