I have a secret...which is not so secret to anyone who really knows me. I'm a hedonist. I have spent the majority of my life adhering to the idea "if it feels good, it is good." Conversely I also like "if you don't like it, don't do it." Flip sides to the same coin, really, but that has been my modus operandi and, as a general rule, it has served me fairly well. But as with all general rules there are a few glaring exceptions. The most pertinent being that I grew rather wide eating the things I liked and avoiding exercise, which I believe I have explained that I don't. Currently even that hasn't presented a problem any more severe than an annoying inability to find clothing that doesn't look as if it were sewn entirely of remnants (seriously plus sized clothing can be absolutely hideous-we're fat not blind). I should amend that statement to say it hasn't presented any problems yet.
I'm not unintelligent. In fact, I have a Bachelors in biology. I know that maintaining my weight, such as it is, as I grow older will lead to many problems, some that have the potential to kill me. It seems being overweight increases your risk for everything, and let's just say that the cards, genetically speaking, are not stacked in my favor to begin with. So it seems that in order to reverse this potentially lethal expansion of girth the hedonism has to go.
I started this morning. I denied myself what I wanted most twice in the space of fifteen minutes. First I wanted to do nothing more than to climb into bed after work today. I had a very strong impulse to forget there were such things as gyms and go home to much more pleasant companions: my pillows, my bed, and my big fluffy comforter. BUT after a heated internal debate, sticking to my guns and hitting the gym won out. I'm trying to establish a habit, after all, and what good does it do to establish the habit of avoiding your habit? If you followed that sentence, you know the answer is none. And when I get to the gym what do I spy across the street but the blazing red glory of the Krispy Kreme hot sign. Now I can generally pass up Krispy Kreme with relative ease, but there is something about a hot glazed that holds a special place in my heart. I very nearly reverted to my original plan, only with a new friend along for the party...but no. I turned my back on that scarlet temptress and got myself on an arc trainer. For those of you not familiar it's kind of a combination of stair-master and elliptical. I've found it kicks my butt harder than the other machines do. I set my newfound program and worked out for 45 minutes before calling it quits. I figure that way I average 30 minutes a day when you consider the measly 15 minutes I put in yesterday. I left the gym red in the face, dripping sweat, and satisfied that I did something good for me, even if I hated the whole process.
Then I went home and indulged my decadence with some Brie and grapes for breakfast. I guess the hedonist doesn't have to disappear completely after all.