Walking Disaster

Sorry, let me start over: there are infinitely many problems with trying to better yourself. And no, I am not talking about becoming a better person, because I don’t care enough to do that, I mean becoming healthier. Besides having to eat better, and sleep at a decent time, and exercise, and all that misery, there is the added conundrum of becoming that asshole who constantly talks about it. No one likes that person. Even that person doesn’t like that person, which is why they’re trying to diet and exercise their way into being a different person. I say this knowing full well that I am slowly becoming that person. Confused? Tough.

There was a time in my life where I felt like I had a personality, but those days are long gone. Is it my job handicapping any ability to feel joy? Or is it the fact that my apartment hasn’t had a working kitchen for almost three months now, and that frustration is bleeding into my everyday life? Obviously, yes to both. However, I think it’s also because while trying to lose these last five pounds in order to finally reach my goal weight, I have become the person who talks about the portion sizes of lunch with the crossfitting coworker. And crossfitters are the worst! But who else can I talk to about as miserable a subject as diet and/or exercise? I’ve had to give up all semblance of fun. If someone brings a dozen donuts into the office for breakfast on a Friday, I am now the token wet blanket who says, “Well now I have to workout today” or, “Oh, I really shouldn’t…” as I reach for my first, and potentially (if there are leftovers and no one else is making moves) my second, donut. I am also now that unbearable killjoy who has a Post-It note on her desk that says “No Bread, No Chips”. Trust me, if self loathing was enough to reach a weight goal, I would’ve surpassed mine the second I heard myself order a salad from a deli.

It goes even further than that, because another part of self improvement is looking inwards and trying to improve your mental health. Maybe that means going to therapy, or listening to podcasts, or changing your habits. For example, spending all your time that was previously dedicated to rage eating is now spent trying anything to get your mind off the Mexican restaurant down the street, so instead, you do a bit more self reflecting than you would otherwise. And now you’re double the nuisance because not only are you sharing what you did for cardio that morning, but now you’re also projecting your new outlook and life lessons to anyone that will hear it. All to pat yourself on the back. And now, there is also always going to be that little thought at the back of your head, that if these poor innocent bystanders don’t listen or agree with you and your newfound lease on life, than they’re obviously less mature and with a lower emotional IQ than you…which is bullshit because just a week prior you had screamed in the car on the way to eat the largest sub available from Jersey Mikes. Hypothetically.

It’s a true conundrum, because the two people I talk to most in my daily life — my roommate and my one other coworker that I can call a friend, are also on their own betterment journeys, and unfortunately, it does make things more manageable to talk about all this with another person. It feels way easier when you can turn to someone and can say out loud, “I really want a sandwich and cookies,” and you have a friend there to remind you, “we already checked Cravory’s website and there is nothing worth having this week.” Just as I’m sure it’s way easier for them to turn to me and say something like, “I am not going to work out today” and I can confidently say, “me neither, we had three zoom meetings for no discernible reason, we should just relax the rest of the day and start fresh in the morning.” Rinse and repeat.

Evidently, this system works, because one day you will inevitably find yourself in a situation where you tell your roommate to wake you up for a workout when she leaves for the gym the next morning, but even though you wake up at 5:30, it is cold and you’re tired, so you text her to abort the mission, and go back for another hour of sleep. Except in your early morning haze, you haven’t yet factored in that she took the phrase “we’re in this together” to heart, leaving her with the absurd notion that the true, right course of action is to turn on the blender, as well as all the lights in your room and proceed to yell, “do it for your thighs!” over and over at the top of her lungs until you get up and put in your contacts. Again, hypothetically.

The weird thing is, that I actually do feel like talking about this self improvement process, or blogging about it, will help in some way. Partly because talking about it means my phone will listen in and change my Amazon, Instagram, and Pinterest algorithms to workouts and health/wellness ads. Partly because saying something out loud makes it real and substantive, thus helping to hold myself a bit more accountable (if only). But mostly because talking about it makes it more digestible (what a freudian slip) in a way. When I can talk about this unbearable drivel with someone else, it works to make me feel more comfortable and less alone. I can see that even people who are prettier and skinnier than me have almost the exact same struggles and insecurities that I do, which is encouraging. Together, we can share willpower, and that brings its own feelings of relief and support. Unfortunately, it also taps into my competitive side which works but, as I’m sure you remember from previous posts, has driven me to extremes in the past. I went to an F45 class with my roommate and almost killed myself trying to beat her at every station. Is she aware that I was doing this, or that I couldn’t walk for three days? Definitely not! Although…she probably is now.