Today, I woke up and looked myself in the mirror with a newly critical eye, for that is what you do the moment the age-o-meter passes 30.
I examined every wrinkle, every sag, every lumpy bumpy “curve,” and asked myself, “Am I ready?”
I inhaled to puff up my chest, squaring my shoulders, then throwing them back.
Am I ready to face the summery, sunshiny world?
I rose up on the balls of my feet as if in high heels because it makes your legs look longer and leaner and your butt pops out in a pert little pouf.
Am I happy enough with what I see in the mirror today that I might actually shimmy into teeny tiny butt-fold-baring hotpants and a backless halter top, which means I would also go sans…underwire support?
I put my hands on my hips and tossed my head back to loosen the perfect manageable waves since, you know, the keratin treatment.
Am I ready? Am I?
Am I ready to go out and face the sticky, sweaty summer sunshine…a little less covered?!?!
I twirled around, arms raised up, for the full perspective.
Sigh.
I am just not ready.
This whole hiatus/lack of motivation before the summer was a completely bad idea. I slipped into my oversized t-shirt and baggy short and schlepped over to my desk, searching the internet for motivation. Yes, people, I searched…I couldn’t just jump right into exercise, could I?
But then I found the quote below, and I as I read I got heated, fervidly shaking my head of wavy curls up and down in agreement. Yes, yes yes! I screamed. This stranger, this stranger knew me. His words were sent to motivate me!
In response to the question: How do you stay motivated? Charlie Moody wrote on the newsgroup misc.fitness.weights:
- “I look in the mirror: if I see any trace of the sad, exhausted, pale, weak, fat, whipped wage-slave desk-jockey I used to be, I’m ready to lift some weight. I’m reminded of my sister (nothing personal), who’s spent her life doing all the stuff other people want her to do, and all the stuff she figures she should do.
A couple of weeks ago, she asked me with tears in her eyes when would it be her turn to have a life and do what she wants? All I could tell her was, “It’ll be your turn when you get off the hamster wheel and take a fucking turn.” It’s up to you. No one else. You’ll find the time to work out when you DECIDE you’re gonna work out. You’ll eat and rest and take care of yourself because you decide you deserve it, you need it, you want it, and NO ONE is going to keep you from it. Not even you. I’m a beginner, too, and no-one’s gonna watch what I eat for me, no-one’s gonna lift an ounce of my weight. I can make up any story I want about it, but stories are bullshit: I can be a warrior, or I can be a victim. For the warrior, no excuses; for the victim, only excuses.”
Which one are you?