I wasn't expecting to do battle this week, but I have found myself in the middle of a minefield.
I'd been enjoying certain perks that come from pregnancy and breastfeeding, certain things that I enjoyed not having to worry about—one of which decided to pick this week to make its grand re-entrance into my schedule.
Yep, it's that time of the month; I've had a splitting headache for two days, I was nauseous yesterday, and all I want is chocolate. And ice cream. Pretty much ANYTHING sweet. And my defenses have abandoned me like wayward soldiers on the battlefield. Why this week? My last week of the challenge?
I've tried to trick my brain by eating fruit. Didn't work. The heart wants what it wants, and it's telling my brain to take a hike and bring back chocolate.
I'm being dramatic, of course. As Monday was a rest day, yesterday my husband and I walked for 45 minutes. Hardly Insanity or P90X, but at least I got off my butt. Oddly enough, exercise is supposed to make this easier, and I really should set an example for everyone by working through my misery and blogging some inspirational advice about determination and willpower and what-not. But I just want chocolate.
It's that kind of day where, when I woke up early this morning by the buzzing of a text message, I just wanted to pull my 750-thread-count sateen sheet and vintage-washed duvet back over my head and stay there all day. (Seriously, my bed is COMFORTABLE.)
But I'm up, my son's taking a nap, and somehow I managed to slip into my workout clothes. And though as I type this, I'm silently running through the components of my cupboard in my head trying to decide if I have the ingredients to bake some cookies, my tennis shoes are in front of me, begging me to play.
The verdict is still out...
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