Ghosts and Phoenixes

When I woke up this morning, my very first thought was: how can I talk myself out of going to the gym today? (sigh). An old habit that I thought I'd vanquished was only sitting in my mental closet like a monster waiting for the lights to go out to re-emerge. I greeted this demon with a growling "good morning, and get the f#@^ outta my head!" and started trying to figure out where my resistance really existed. OK, for one second I let myself imagine not hitting the gym today. I'm human.

While sipping my first cuppa, my horoscope for today read:

Are you making the same old choices again? Stop being timid. Drop the past and let it fade back. The future will be more fun than you think.

Alrighty then! It's amazing how often KT can read my mind and tell me what I need to hear.

I think (and it's only a think at this point), that what I really want to do is try to insure that I'm working out when Guido isn't there. Really be on my own. Because I know he'll be lurking in the background making sure I'm not screwing up, but not wanting to do so either. Not that I haven't done workouts on my own before; and I've ignored Guido's presence in the gym while doing those.

But today is that FIRST. That first time being responsible. That pattern-setting, success-making time. (jeez, can I put more pressure on myself for just one workout? It's only a work out, gal!) And I need to break the habit of thinking that he's involved in this workout thing.

My whole mood changed while I was exfoliating. I desperately want to work out my biceps and triceps. Scrubbing my thighs, I want to work those quads and hamstrings too. But I really, really, really, really want to work those biceps. I'm even wearing a sleeveless tank in bright white to show them off. Arms: they're the older woman's equivalent of the great rack when you're in your 20s. Saggy boobs can only be fixed by surgery; flabby arms are under my control.

Screw anything else! I'm off to the gym!

Edit from next day: It worked! I showed up while Guido on lunch, and did a kick-ass work-out. One of the trainers told me my trainer would be proud. I responded: My trainer is already proud of me! What's more important is that I'm proud of myself!


I also blog at A Stitch in Time and BlogHer on Saturdays and Mondays.