Last January my husband decided that we all needed to get in shape. Clean up our eating. Join the gym. You know, the regular resolution stuff.
So he headed out to the gym and signed us all up. Yes, both of the kids too.
It stuck for about 6 weeks with the kids. A little longer for us, but here we are, 11 months later and I don't think we've set foot in the gym in 5 months. Or more. It's kind of embarrassing to admit that, yet, here we are.
I think the most frustrating part for me was/is that now that I'm, ahem, a little older, it takes longer to see the results that I want. Like the image above, I expect immediate, spectacular results. I know it's about being healthier in general. Eating right, moving, strengthening. All good things, no doubt. But really, what is in the back of my mind through all of it is that perfect Cindy Crawford body (or insert your favorite woman's body here.) Thin, fit, healthy, and always looks good in clothes. (And out of clothes, but only one person in my life gets to see that.)
I know that I need to move. At one time I was thisclose to becoming a certified aerobics instructor, so I know that our bodies need to move to stay healthy. I wish that I could be better at making myself get up to go to the gym. I feel better when I do. I look better when I do.
So this is my way of giving myself a pep talk. Next week, I'll go. Even if it's only once, I'll go. Then maybe, just maybe, I can turn once into twice.