About a week ago I saw a Meme that said "The pain of working out will never be more than the pain of being overweight." Now in my late thirties I have to say that I agree. What is about procrastination that just fucking kills you. If you could worry weight gain off it should probably be an Olympic sport of note. Unfortunately that's not possible unless of course you are ridden with nervous anxiety that will burn through fat in weeks. It's kind of like considering a book. It won't write itself. Yet I have mulled away hours on both scenarios without much avail. The thing is though as much as I like to berate myself for not getting thinner. I have to love myself immensely for not getting uncontrollably fatter. I can still fit into the jogging pant I wore at 24 and I'm now 37. In the scheme of things I'm really not doing that badly despite being 5 kilos heavier than I'd prefer. You're probably laughing your ass of with that one. Yes 5 kilos. 5 kilos only. This time though with a deadline looming it's absolutely time.
Weight gain, I believe, is on one level, the price you pay for being happy. Then on another level it's the price you pay for getting comfortable. I'm reaching a new place in my life where I finally have to accept that for the last 6 years I have neglected my body. I'm not being hard on myself, it just happens to be true. It's taken me a long time to accept this after my move to South Africa. After five years I can actually say it's been a big adjustment. Not least to the new relationship, as much as the new continent. Before I turned 30 and got into my relationship. I can hold my head up high and gladly say that weight was something that I rarely worried about. I was comfortable with my weight. I ate what I wanted when I wanted and had a fairly active lifestyle for someone who didn't work. The anxiety of a new long distance relationship and the desire to stay in touch kept me indoors far to much and then I moved to Pretoria, where a natural outdoors environment is practically illegal. I also made the mistake of tricking myself into denial that post-thirty the weight piles on. That is bullshit. As Christine Northup will tell you.
I've been in Cape Town for nearly three years and the outdoor environment is still a challenge. Getting outdoors as woman on your own is still a safety risk that needs to be handled with a certain amount of care that it is not possible to run off gallivanting out into the woods.
So now in the last six months that I now approach situation critical shedding for the wedding. I realise that I've been lying to myself and that taking care of my body with exercise is as essential as nutrition to create a functional human complex. Mind, Body and Soul. Although I am not able to exercise fully in the way that I would prefer I have a responsibility to myself to take care of my body regardless. That the care of my body is as much part of my success in life as the treatment of the mind and soul.
In life, pathways can diverge in a number of different ways for different reasons in time. Now I see that there are lessons in everything and although we can look like we have seriously gotten our act together the minor blemished in character, attitude or belief can send us careering of course in search of battle scars instead of just making minor adjustments. After years of recovery I finally feel like I am back on the up cycle where I used to be. I've learned so much along the way. It's time now to reclaim control of my life, as much as anybody can.
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