I’m feeling pretty crappy body-wise this week. I think some of it has to do with the new pill adjustment (as a follow up to this post, yes, I did in fact get my period on day three of the placebo pills and it lasted until last night which made it — hold on, let me count — a five dayΒ  period. Which a) was exactly as long as it was on the old pill so b) it better regulate and become shorter like Yaz claims or I’ll be annoyed.)

(Side note: annoyed specifically because my period was exactly planned out to end the week before the wedding, and at this rate it’s going to end the Tuesday before the wedding. Only three days before the Big Day and so help me if I haveΒ a zit.)

(No more parentheses, promise.)

(Starting now.)

The other reason I’m feeling crappy is I just have not been able to get on a regular gym routine lately. I go, but then I won’t for a few days. Life has just been getting in the way and I was all set to go last night when I came home to a lovely letter from the IRS, which let me just tell you is NOT the way I prefer to end my day. That would be with a glass of wine and an episode of Gilmore Girls thankyouverymuch.

No worries, the IRS thing is fine, but it completely cut into my gym plans because I have tendency to overreact to things just a wee (cough, cough, huge, cough) bit and by the time I was done dealing with it the gym was a distance memory.

So I set the alarm for an hour earlier than usual this morning.

And didn’t go.

I am a first-class procrastinator. Always have been. I’d do term papers two days before it they were due. I send in my bill payments the week before they’re due. I put off picking up my piles until they’re threatening both my relationship and the safety of the dog. He doesn’t like having things fall on him.

I recognize my pattern of behavior, I just don’t know how to change it.

Six months ago I was in the gym five days a week, every week, like clock work. Now, just 12 weeks from W day you would think it would be a no brainer to get my butt there. But I’m not going! Instead, I eat my grapes and complain to fellow brides about how I’m feeling and woe is me blah, blah, blah.

I need a serious kick in the pants.

And then an hour in the gym.

Followed by another kick in the pants to go back.


I keep telling myself, “tomorrow. Tomorrow I will go back.” And I mean it this time. I’m going to write it down (not here though, because ugh, how annoying) and track my gym days because the goal is to stay healthy and stay strong.

I really don’t want to lose that.