For the first time since I began this journey, I skipped workout two days in a row. No excuses - I effed up. Thursday was a choice: after the marathon homework session that I slogged through (my husband's term) with my 9-year old, which followed a long, arduous day at work, I decided to bond with my husband and decompress with some actual TV (Glee....my "not Bollywood" addiction). Then Friday, I came home fully intending to Bollywood jam. I walked in to find a new movie from Netflix waiting for me, and I was SO excited to get it (it was Koyla), and I was just going to watch a few minutes, and....no excuses. I could've, should've paused the movie and exercised. The first real step backwards isn't the skipping exercise, it would be the acting like it was okay. It's not. I got up this morning and Jazzercised my butt off, and I will, no excuses, do a full hour of BW Booty Shake.
You know what the stupidest part is? I love the BW Booty Shake. I have a great time doing it, my kids love the music, and I feel so proud when I'm done. I can't explain why I didn't get up - I guess if I could, I wouldn't be where I am, clawing my way back from the brink. In any event, it's done now. A very smart therapist (the only kind who can ever sneak past my very elaborate defenses) once told me,"guilt is productive; shame is not.". I felt guilt for skipping the workout: that prompts me to get back on the wagon. Shame would only put me back in the pantry at midnight, eating in secret: lying on the couch, wishing I could just sleep my life away. Shame is no longer welcome here.
Breakfast - a bunch of almonds
Lunch - scrambled eggs with blue cheese and chives; coffee; about 6 blackberries
Dinner - Quarter Pounder w/cheese, no bun (terrible, I know, but there it is)
Exercise - Jazzercise with SERIOUS effort
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