Here we go...well me, anyway. ::ahem:: here I go.

First let me start by saying that my brother and his girlfriend left yesterday for Puerto Rico (:grumble grumble:), leaving the apartment to my sister and me for the next week. And therefore, as solace to myself for not getting to go swim in the ocean and eat a bounty of fried plantains, I'm writing this post at his computer in his fancy computer chair with a very sweaty I-just-finished-working-out-and-haven't-yet-bothered-to-shower arse. 


Muahahaha! 


Anyhow, yes! I've just completed a wonderful, gut busting work out. And although it hasn't been my first (I got the OK from my physical therapist to starting working out again about a month ago and have been using there gym, but they were at war with their landlord over rent and have since moved and I haven't been able to go so, here I am at home instead), it is the first in a routine. Yes, I said a routine meaning this isn't the first nor will it be the last. 


Since before the accident - because as much as I'd like to blame it entirely on that, it isn't true - I've kind of slumped into this lethargic state of being. Well, as far as my health is concerned. I've been through all this before after my first year of college. After gaining a whopping 45 pounds (apparently one freshman 15 wasn't enough for me, I needed 2 more to boot), I busted ass and lost the weight and then some. Granted, I had 24 hour access to an amazing pool, gym, and yoga classes. But I did it. And I stuck with it, too. 


Up until I graduated. 


Then I was out on the pavement with a car full of boxes and no idea what to do next. So I started couch surfing and trying to patch together some semblance of a balanced life. Aside from a short stint managing a Bikram yoga studio (where I'm now black listed for quitting :sigh: FML), no job stuck and so with it no income to get a decent place to live. Clearly my priority wasn't to work out, let alone eat right. As long as I was eating, I was happy. 


Well, after over two years of this, my previous hard work went to shit. I tried picking up again when I felt things had calmed down, only to give up and blame it on something aside from my nonexistent will power: I was tired, I hurt (granted, I had hurt my back just before my senior year at work giving me a nasty case of sciatica that still pops up once in awhile), and the best of them all, I didn't have enough money. I hated how I looked, more so when I visited my family and had my growing love handles pinched followed by a negative cluck-cluck from my mother, but didn't have the drive to do anything about it. So I didn't. 


Then October 18th happened. We know that story.


After my first physical therapy appointment, I pulled over on the way to a meeting for work and cried. I cried because I was frustrated with the overwhelming pain that I thought would never go away. I was scared that I'd be weak like this always. And I was disgusted at how far I'd let myself go. Now, let me not be too over dramatic. I wasn't by any means obese, but I knew what I could be and not being that, I hated myself. I had worked so hard just to let a bump in the road like graduating college and getting into the thick of the real world stop me. Even in that dark moment, when my self deprecation was running riot in the streets of my brain, I couldn't find the power to pull through and say enough. Instead I went to that meeting and probably had two cups of sugary coffee followed by a spread of baked goods.


So why now? I don't know. I can't exactly remember what my lowest point was at the end of my freshman year that finally goaded me to put on a pair of spanx and hit the stair master. Either way, something has clicked.


And so I say no more! No more telling myself I can't. No more eating whatever the fuck I want because I can. No more sitting around on a beautiful day, even if it is Saturday and those little turds take it out of me during the week. NO MORE!


It's been a hard year for me, but so what? We know that story, too. But that can't be an excuse anymore. So today, I started a 2 day cleanse of sorts. It's not that master cleanse, I'm not trying to starve myself, it's more a jump start. A new beginning. 


I've done my homework, looked into a few different things and I'm going to see how this goes. It isn't about losing the weight (although it will be nice to fit into my old jeans again), it's about being healthy. I've never been skinny, nor will I ever want to be. But I want to feel like if something were to happen again, I wouldn't be just starting from ground zero. I mean, how much of a wake up call do you need when you hear from your doctor that your recovery would've been a lot faster/easier if I'd been in shape before the accident? There are a lot of things out of my control, but this doesn't have to be one of them.


I know March is the month of march to fitness. Well, I'm going to let April be my kick start. I'm going to be fair with myself, but I won't take it easy. I'm going to dedicated myself to this, just like I do to my job because now it's about giving back to me. I'm going to be strong for myself. It won't be easy, but it will be worth it. 


I'm ready to be proud of myself again. I'm ready.