I’ve been off track-ish, lately. I haven’t been eating bad foods. I’ve been eating too much— not enough to gain, not low enough to lose, just enough to retain some water; just enough to make me despise myself. Indulgence can be a good thing— over indulgence is the bane of my frickin’ existence. Welp, I’ve had enough of flirting with the dark side— who, by the way, is a total tease.

Tomorrow, I start anew. I shall not feel guilty about the past little bit, I will not body-shame myself, and I will definitely not use food as a comfort or a punishment. I need to reenforce my old mantra— eat for fuel, not for sport. I need to move my body because I need to feel good and exercise makes me feel ah-fucking-mazing. I need to get my bubble butt in check with a five finger salute. 

First thing is first:

• Stop feeling sorry for myself.

Second thing is second:

• Clean up my diet. Literally. No canned foods, no meat, no processed foods— basically, nothing that doesn’t come from the earth or isn’t at least halfway natural. Save for Splenda, unless you guys can give me a natural alternative. 

Third thing(s) is/are… last:

• Gym— at least 3 times a week.
• 30 Day Shred
• Yoga (links for beginners, please and thank you?)

… and, in traditional procrastinator fashion, I shall begin tomorrow.

I need some. 

Yesterday I did not Shred. Today: I went down stairs and popped the DVD in, waited for the menu to appear, peanutbutter and banana gurgling in my stomach, and the thought of my reflection in the mirror— bulging stomach, saggy arms, thighs the size of tree trunks— scratching at the front of my mind. I consiously decide that I was not going to do it. 

I didn’t feel like doing it. I wanted to do it. I just didn’t want to do it badly enough. Not even thinking about how bad that is will make me want to go downstairs and do it.

This is the nitty gritty side of weight loss. You guys probably have this perception of me— that I am some hard at it, entirely focused girl that never second guesses or talks smack about her body. That is true— to a point. There are two sides to weight loss: the good and the bad. The good is that never ending sense of yearning, the results, the feeling of repeated accomplishment.  The bad is that you get tired— you get fucking tired of having to live like this. You get tired of not being normal and you get fucking pissed because it makes no sense that what you are doing isn’t the norm— why isn’t treating your body with respect normal? Why does society constantly throw garbage down their throats and sit on the couch like sloths? You get sick at the thought of gaining and you cower from situations that might result in such. You look in the mirror and you still, after working your ass off for months, despise what you see. Long story short, you get sick and tired. And, somedays, you wonder why you even bother. 

I bother because I love myself. Sure, sometimes I let myself down or I make stupid choices. But I do love myself and I am proud of myself and my accomplishments. Sometimes you just need a day. A day to sit and be lazy and think… or not think. 

Today, I evaluated my life a little. To be where I want to be in life— weight loss, school, career— I need to work harder. I need to be more accountable for my action and my choices. 

I’m restarting the Shred tomorrow. Day One. Unaccountable!Brynn would have called it a delayed Day One. Accountable!Brynn calls it Day One— day one of the 30 Day Shred and day one of the rest of her life (oh, the cliche). She calls it a recommitment to herself and her body. She is ready. 

I dropped five pounds. I worked out everyday— with the exception of yesterday when I trotted around the city and didn’t get home until midnight. I ate very well with the exception of yesterday when I treated myself to an iced capp. Whatever. It is all about growth. A treat once in a while wont kill me; I’ve learned that.