I’ve exercised every day this week.
I don’t know who I am anymore.
To further the mind-bending, I’ve wanted to workout. I’ve made time when there really wasn’t any. The walk to and from school with the kids isn’t enough. I’m craving that sore feeling, the ache in my abs that the fucking Pilates workout from HELL gives me, the burn in my thighs from the floor work, my stiff shoulder from the pushups. I’m reveling in the sweat pouring off me as I push an extra 5 minutes on the elliptical.
What the hell, people?
All this added protein and veggies is obviously messing with my head. I’m starting to suspect this Paleo plan is a covert plot to create a nation of super soldiers, slowly seducing us to the fit side. It’s been days since I joked about needing a donut. (Yes, that used to be a daily occurrence and no, it really wasn’t a joke.) The pile of discarded clothing gets larger every day. An opened bottle of wine has been sitting on my counter for 2 WEEKS!
Best yet, it doesn’t feel temporary. This is just what I do now. They have me in their sinister, lean muscled clutches. Shit.
I still have work to do. My fruit and nut intake is higher than it ought to be. We’re making plans to purchase a half a steer next April, so that we’re eating grass-fed beef. Finding pastured pork has been harder – I’m still looking for a local source. And paying $17/pound for sugar free, nitrate free bacon seems more and more logical. I dunno ; probably more of the protein-vitamin molecules blocking the neurons in my brain.
Don’t send help, chickens. I’m loving the dark (and fit) side.