The Hubs is home. Sammy is overjoyed - his pack is once again complete. Having a mental age of about 2 means that the Samster has a toddler's idea of the permanence of things - when something's here, it's here forever, but if it's gone, it's gone forever. Ergo, whenever the Hubs comes back from an AF Reserve duty weekend, it's like Sam's dad is back from the dead - meaning his mom gets a brief reprieve from constant puppy-dogging. I had my lap to myself last night and actually got some knitting done.
In bigger news, Day Three's workout is DONE. The Hubs did it with me. Well, he was behind me the whole time, so I can't actually attest to how much he did, besides smack my butt while I was doing my squats and accuse me of "floppy" jumping jacks. He certainly bitched enough about having to do it - yet, was amazingly quiet for the duration, as opposed to my pretty much constant stream of expletives. I suspect he was trying too hard to breathe to be able to talk. Love you, Hubs.
Yes, people, I have made it 3 days in a row. This in itself is not a big deal, for me - I can make it to 3 days in a row of pretty much any activity. It's making it to 4 consecutive days that's the feat for me. For whatever reason, every exercise program I've attempted in the past has not lasted more than 3 days in a row, even with the best intentions.
It's not that I'm too tired, or I physically can't do it - I mean, I'm a fairly healthy (if overweight) 26-year-old with a history of participating in school sports, which clearly required practices more than 3 days in a row. No, it's not that I don't have the actual ability...it's more subtle than that. It's almost like, if I've given something 3 days, I feel like I've done enough of it - I just don't find it necessary to go to 4. It's like my brain says, "OK, you've given it your best shot, and you're still fat. On to something else now." This would be hard to explain to someone who's never been overweight, but I feel like my fellow fatties might get me on this one: no matter how pumped-up you can be for some new diet or regimen, once a certain amount of time goes by (for me, evidently, 3 days) without any evidence of the miracle result you pumped yourself up for, your brain just shuts the operation down. There's no more motivation to keep trying when you have nothing there to make you want to persevere.
I don't mean to sound like a sad sap, one of those overweight people who have just consigned themselves to be that way forever, because they've tried their entire lives to lose weight, without result. I haven't been trying my whole life - only the past 4 years. I wasn't fat when I was young, or in college. But I have gained 60 pounds in the last 4 years. Sixty. pounds. This corresponds with the date I got married, but also the time that I stopped walking around a college campus or to work, and started sitting at a desk job for 8 to 10 hours a day. But over those last 4 years, I have tried, and failed at, almost every diet program out there, even the clearly dangerous ones. I've taken Hydroxycut. I've done Fat Flush, the Best Life Diet, the Rice Diet, and bought a Wii Fit, which got used exactly 3 times. The only one I had marginal success with was Fat Flush - I lost 15 pounds, only to have gained it back by the end of the year. Even though I haven't been trying to lose weight my whole life, I know what failure feels like. It's a short jump from there to desperation. And an even shorter one to depression.
But this time, I'm going to make it to 4 days. I'm going to take off these 60 pounds. Because this time, I have something I didn't have before: a partner. This blog was FunnyNurse's idea, a way to keep each other updated about our joint progress. But it's more than that: it's a system of accountability. I got up this morning knowing I had to do my workout not just because I told myself I would, but because I told FN I would, and because I wanted to be able to post on here that I did it. I love you, FN, and we're in this together. And you know what else?
I've lost 2 pounds.
