Kicking Yourself in the Ass

011a5ab3aee467795c6c0cb0eac7b40b3e5284df78Is key.

And so it is. After the life I’ve led, the things that I have suffered, it would be easy to give up. I mean, there was a period in my life that the stink of trauma was so bad I couldn’t get out of bed, I literally couldn’t move- not my legs, arms, no part of my body would move. But my mind was alive and well. I don’t know where it came from, but I repeated to myself, in my head, “move one leg”. I would repeat this to myself over and over again until I finally came back in my body somehow, and moved my leg. I would instruct myself to put my foot on the floor, followed by moving my other leg, and putting my other foot on the floor, then instructing myself to remove my body from the bed.

Though not as severe or necessary (depends on what one deems necessary) I fight back my excuses, I stop staying up till 4 am, I bully myself to get myself in the gym. I kick my ass. I look at pictures like this:

IMG_125932329281629

And this:

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Throw on my CT Fletcher T-shirt and Wright’s Gym Sweatshirt, Big Audiophile Headphones,2013-10-26 20.01.472013-10-11-15-35-12-226 (1)2014-01-30 22.43.31

and walk out the door.

I have a younger cousin, she’s going to be 32 this year and she’s always been a big girl, even when we were young- I was a tall wiry kid and we, admittedly made fun of her for it, her brother and me (hey, B, do two fats make a skinny? I have no idea what that means, but I can only imagine how that must have felt- her brother and I were her elders, all two years apart). It has never really bothered her until I started to shed pounds. She started jogging, went to the gym but fell off the wagon.

Her life and mine are both polar opposites. She’s had an easier go of it. I don’t talk to her much because of this, my issue, I know. So I texted her the other day and she texted back. I told her I was going to the gym and school and have been really busy. She seemed to be pumped to get back to the gym. I told her it helps to bully yourself…and listed to hip hop. She told me she would go the next day. I texted her and she told me she didn’t go, gave all kinds of lame excuses. I told her I lost 65 lbs and that it’s hard but I do it. She responded that she was proud and that I obviously worked hard for it. It was disappointing. I told her I wanted to compete, walk the stage, after the obvious skin removal and other things. She never got back to me.

So, though I have a lot to do, I am going to the gym tomorrow. I have a long commute so I can get my chapter in psych read while I’m on the bus and read other books on my iPad (I am a writer after all and book nerd). This workout is for my cousin. I don’t know what is going on her head about getting healthy or if what we said a long time ago has scarred her in some way (she went on a weird diet when she was a teenager) but I can only lead by example. Twice this week I’ve gone to the gym, with another day left after tomorrow. Maybe when I finally walk the stage she’ll rethink things. But until then, IT’S STILL MY MOTHER FUCKING SET!!

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