*Whiney, defeatist post ahead - feel free to skip if you're not in the mood.
I did discuss it with my sister. I told her I wasn’t going to worry about it until after the reunion and then I’d decide if I was going to do anything about it. Her response was, “IF, what’d mean if? You have to do something.” But apparently not. I didn’t find out I was over weight at my last doctor’s visit. In fact I’ve been well aware of it for a good twenty-five years. So if I’ve known for a quarter of a century and haven’t done anything, I don’t have to do anything now.
I could make a plan – I am excellent at making a plan. I can schedule a variety of exercises, plan healthy meal and nutritious snacks, I could plan on writing down everything I eat, I could plan on going to bed earlier and getting more sleep. I could make a plan that would impress the hell out of you. But as you probably expect, while I great at making the plan I positively suck at sticking to it.
Right now I won’t go back to the gym – picture me with my arms wrapped around our heaviest piece of furniture screaming, “I won’t, I won’t, I won’t!” I hate it, I despise it and I won’t do it! Not even if Nick threatened, promised or actually spanked the hell out of me. Any question?
Now discounting the gym, would knowing Nick would give me a true, sound spanking for not making some effort to improve my health make a difference? If he looked over the plan I could make and insist, with those consequence I dream of hanging over me, that I follow through on some or all of them, entice me and excite me enough to try? I guess we’ll never know. As I’ve seen on fb lately:
Not his circus, not his monkey.
It’s my problem, not his and I don’t know if I’m going to do anything or not.