I have a very dependent relationship with exercise. My body needs it to maintain the physical condition that I like. I’ll never be ‘thin’ by anyone’s standards. I have hips, a butt and thighs. I’ve been overweight and refuse to go there again.
My mother said to me the other day, “I know you’ve kept the managed to keep the weight off for years but do you have to workout so much?” Yes. I know how many days I can slack off without seeing any damage and how many days off will result to me having to get back to my ‘fighting weight’.
To be honest, I don’t weigh myself. The only time I’m weighed is when I go for physicals. I have a hate-hate relationship with the scale. I lose inches, go down clothing sizes. But the scale, it just doesn’t seem to shift the way I’d like it to. I’m not sure why, some have blamed it on the fact that I do weights, an hour-long routine a couple of times a week. My nutritionist joked that maybe I have rocks inside that are inflating my weight. I go based off a look. It’s my personal best, not a cover model’s personal best.
I enjoy exercise, know its role in my life, but yet I have my days where I just don’t want to go. In less than 2 months, I’m going on my annual Fort Lauderdale trip. I love bikinis. I have a second trip planned later in the summer for San Diego. Basically, I’m going to have to live out my favorite mantra (that I came up with) to look the way I want to look in those bikinis.
The mantra. “Live everyday, like you could be wearing a bikini tomorrow.”
It sounds obnoxious, but it keeps you focused on being consistent. I heard a DJ refer to this as workout season. I’d wish that people could commit to do it consistently. Versus being bummed out because they’ve packed on pounds during the fall and the winter…