Expectations...

Memorial Day happened. And I made some awful decisions that led to a less than successful Tuesday night workout. Basically I spent most of the day on Monday eating. And I was eating things that I should not have been eating. I ate Dominos. Like a lot of Dominos. Because despite paying monthly for a gym membership, I still don't care enough to eat healthily. Not to mention I didn't even work out on Monday. I sabotaged myself. I caved in to the promise of greasy delicious pizza and let that trump my desire to be what I've never been: skinny.

Despite walking/jogging later in the evening with Liz (Best Friend Rachel's roommate) all I could think about was how I had failed and succumbed to weakness. I don't know if it's as hard for everyone else to resist as it is for me, but it seems incredibly difficult. And ridiculous. For example, if I get it in my head that I want Dominos, I find myself being incredibly sad until I actually order it. Once I place my order and know it's coming, I'm ecstatic. That is until I consume the entire pizza and a sandwich. Then I feel disgusting and awful because I'm a horrible person.

I'm a slave to food. I never learned to eat in a healthy way and I find the self discipline to learn now impossible. Did I make awful decisions on Tuesday? You bet. I had twinkies as a snack. I knew I shouldn't have, but I wanted them and why should I deny myself a temporary joy that will only lead to self loathing?

Justin adjusted the time of our training session to later than usual so I do some yoga when I get home, and then head to the gym to do my cardio workout before the training session. I downloaded a 'Couch to 5K' app because for some reason I have been enjoying jogging. It's hard and I sweat a lot. I also make a huge mistake and pick a treadmill in front of a mirror.

I do not recommend this. It's upsetting to see what my body does when I'm trying to better myself through exercise. Every time I run for a minute all I see is my bouncing mass and I get mad, frustrated, depressed, embarrassed. I did this to myself. I did it for my entire life up until this point, and even now, I'm not doing all I can. How can I simultaneously want something so much and not care enough to do it? It doesn't seem fair.

Unfortunately for Justin, my mood follows me into the personal training session. We're in the functional training room for the session and either because I'm very transparent or Justin is very good at reading people he asks me what's wrong? 'Nothing. I just want to do this.' Only a partial lie. I really do want to do this. As proved by my Saturday workout, anger can be a great motivator for me. So to start I do a minute of wall sits, thirty seconds of jumping jacks, and a minute hover. I cycle through that three or four times. I can't really remember.

Justin is his usual cheerful encouraging self, even singing about how many seconds I have left along with Flo Rida. And it does help, especially during the hovers. We move on to some presses from the floor and some step back lunges. While I'm doing the lunges Justin says 'Come on, stay with me.' For some reason this ticks me off. And apparently I make a face because Justin asks what it's for. 'I don't want to leave, just so you know.' He asks what I mean. 'I'm doing it, how the hell am I not with you?' Conversation stops at that point. I finish up the rest of the session with side hovers added to the lunges and presses.

Ultimately the thing that frustrates me is that my best isn't good enough. I thought I was doing well and for some reason, a comment that is often said during the session rubs me the wrong way. I wasn't even close to giving up but apparently looked like it. I'm pushing myself and decided that Justin's comment meant that he didn't think I was doing a good enough job. That's not what he said. He was attempting to keep me focused on the exercise and to ignore any sort of muscle exhaustion. Perfectly reasonable.

What is really going through my head is that my best isn't good enough for me. I hate that I didn't do this a long time ago. I should be better at this stuff and I'm not. My best is constantly not good enough for me and maybe that's because I secretly know it's not my best. If I had been trying my best since I started I would be significantly farther than being down only thirty five pounds. I should be down sixty or one hundred pounds. I should have to self control to say no to Dominos. I should have to drive to get out of bed each morning and exercise to change what I hate about myself. I should want to be pushing myself daily. Instead I use what I do accomplish as an excuse to make bad decisions.

My hope is that forcing myself to do that which I detest at times, will lead to me embracing the sweat. It will lead to me looking at a body that I hate and thinking about where I'm going instead of how I got to where I am. It will motivate me to not go backwards and fall into old habits. It will lead to a better life that I enjoy.