Just when I was prepared to get to the gym the next day, I wake up with a really hurt shoulder. It's still working itself out today. Mnarfnard.
Anyhoo, I've become too concerned with what the scale says and need to refocus on my actual behaviors. Usually I can be on good behavior for two days, maybe three, before it's apparently too much and I have to take myself down a few pegs by eating something I know isn't good for me and then using it to justify throwing the rest of the day away since, let's face it, it's already ruined. Apparently 48 hours is the limit of my ability to motivate myself.
No more.
I want to have a perfect week. As in, seven whole days. I can't deny that I, as an all-or-nothing kind of thinker, am very drawn to the word "perfect". I thought that instead of trying to avoid that attraction, I'd try (on a short-term, trial basis) letting myself have it. The trick, of course, is putting a concrete definition to the word so that I can use it without accusing myself of stretching the truth in my favor and then feeling like a jerk and a fool.
So, here's the definition: on a perfect day I will spend at least one hour exercising, I will eat only high-nutrition, low-fat foods, I will read one chapter or do some equivalent chunk of homework, I will spend half an hour with the Bible or some book on theology/doctrine/etc., and I will clean one room of the apartment. There. If I do those things I've had a perfect day, and if I do them for seven days in a row I'll have had a perfect week.
Speaking of weeks, my competitor and I promised each other certain numbers for tomorrow's weigh-in. Sorry, SK and myself, those numbers will have to be seen some other week. Muhbad. Maybe next Monday!
-Amber
No comments:
Post a Comment