After taking the stairs (FROM THE GYM) to my apartment on the 31st floor, I thought to myself, 'I think I'll have a salad'. What is happening to me?
This is coming from the girl who's college friend had to convince her that one big mac was really enough, but if she wanted two, she should at least breathe between them. Since moving, however, I've developed quite the health routine. Gym and stairs every other day, and yoga in between (the yoga is a new thing).
Maybe it was my loving father, who, concerned about my laptop lifestyle, said before I left, "Make sure you work out in Bahrain". Thanks dad. Does he do this to my sisters? Or is it only me that, when I go over a certain poundage, he likes to sweetly tell me how I've filled out?
Maybe it's the new friend who competes in bikini fitness competitions. After I told her I've started working out, but that I don't really know what I'm doing, she offered to do a gym sesh together so I could develop a routine. Buz saw her in the gym, and he came back wide eyed, saying, "believe me baby, you DO NOT want to work out with her". He's afraid I may die. He might be right.
Maybe it's that new year's resolution to work out every other day that nags me. I promised myself I would be a healthier person in Bahrain. I put on about 10 pounds from the holidays and from Buzzy's mom's cherry torte, and I was hoping to shed it. However, since we don't own a scale, nor does our gym have one, I have no idea where I am in regard to that number. It seems silly to purchase one just to torture myself.
But what I know it is- I want to be healthy. I want to feel like the chick on the cover of the yoga DVD we bought. Not look like her, although that would be nice, but feel like her. When I moved to Mexico after college, I decided it was time for debauchery. I would eat the three a.m. tacos, I would drink the vodka cranberries, and I would eat cake every damn day. I didn't let go in college, and I was determined to do it. Now, starting this new fase of my life, I've taken a new route. It's time to get on the fitness schedule that I will keep for the next 5 years or so. I'll be in my... gulp... 30's after that, so I better get used to working out.
Who knows if I'll keep it up. I hope I will... at least until the end of January.
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| Ok, so it was taco salad, but it counts |
Maybe it was my loving father, who, concerned about my laptop lifestyle, said before I left, "Make sure you work out in Bahrain". Thanks dad. Does he do this to my sisters? Or is it only me that, when I go over a certain poundage, he likes to sweetly tell me how I've filled out?
Maybe it's the new friend who competes in bikini fitness competitions. After I told her I've started working out, but that I don't really know what I'm doing, she offered to do a gym sesh together so I could develop a routine. Buz saw her in the gym, and he came back wide eyed, saying, "believe me baby, you DO NOT want to work out with her". He's afraid I may die. He might be right.
 |
| This isn't her, but it looks strikingly similar. |
But what I know it is- I want to be healthy. I want to feel like the chick on the cover of the yoga DVD we bought. Not look like her, although that would be nice, but feel like her. When I moved to Mexico after college, I decided it was time for debauchery. I would eat the three a.m. tacos, I would drink the vodka cranberries, and I would eat cake every damn day. I didn't let go in college, and I was determined to do it. Now, starting this new fase of my life, I've taken a new route. It's time to get on the fitness schedule that I will keep for the next 5 years or so. I'll be in my... gulp... 30's after that, so I better get used to working out.
Who knows if I'll keep it up. I hope I will... at least until the end of January.
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