I'd love to take the easy way out, but unfortunately I'm an addict.

You know those days that you want to sick on the couch and veg? Well, I've been having a lot of those lately. The reasons vary but the outcome feels the same. I get home from work, sit my booty on the couch and I mope. Sometimes, I grab a blanket and nap for a bit; sometimes, I click on Netflix; sometimes, I just sit there and think (which is EXTREMELY dangerous). Most days, I have about a 40 minute window in this vegetable stage before it sinks in too deeply and all of my productivity is gone.

Thankfully, I've found something that keeps me from hitting the dreary, Oregonian comastose state: The Gym.

If you've been keeping up with my blog, you might know my background when it comes to my body image stuff. I had always considered myself athletic. Sure, I didn't work out frequently in college, but I played sports growing up and I wasn't some weak, little flower that couldn't carry my own boxes while moving (which I did frequently). In reality, I was kidding myself. I was NOT athletic, I was lazy and in denial. I needed a jolt to get me back to my actual athletic self.

Fast forward to Spring of 2014. At the time, I had a boyfriend who enjoyed working out more than anything else in the world, and he taught me a TON about taking care of myself. He never pressured me to change how I looked but I would be lying if I said that my inital workout kick didn't have anything to do with his self-proclaimed passion. He looked like a statue of a greek god and let's just say that I was a little softer than marble. He had no issue with my bodily composition but I did.  When you're surrounded by a buff-macho-man influence, you become even more aware of the fact that you're the girl who didn't quality as skinny but wasn't fat either. As one of my friends recently pointed out, I wasn't fat, I was thick. BUT I ALWAYS FELT FAT. I have had body image issues for a very long time and for the first few months, I was ready to give up every single day. As I've talked about in prior posts, I had tried to lose weight in very unhealthy ways in the past. In my post Learning to Love this Rockin' Bod, I wrote,

I was always so angry that I let my weight determine my self worth, so I started thinking about how I can make the positive changes in my life to not only get healthier physically, but to also get happier with my body from the mental perspective. Throughout this discovery, I still have LOTS of days where I feel defeated. I get really down on myself because, like I said, I'm used to the instant results of unhealthy weight loss. On those days, I make myself find at least two things in the mirror that I like/see improvement. As silly as that sounds, it gets me back to remembering that I am getting stronger.

I'd have to drag myself to the gym, but I knew I was making a good change. I'd literally be whining to myself, shoes on, dressed and laying on the floor, saying, "I don't wannnnaaaaa!" But the little diva voice in my head said, "Actually Bitch, you do!"

Then, after a few months of not seeing any changes, of half-assing it at the gym, of hating the commitment it took, I saw a little change in the mirror. "Hey, is that a muscle?! Oh my gosh, I think I see a muscle!!" Sure it still had a thick layer of fat over the top, but my flicker of hope turned to a little tiny flame. I started wanting to go to the gym, you know why? Because I was starting to get stronger.

Fast forward even farther, the gym was my therapy in a time where all I wanted to do was mope. I cried on the treadmill. I grunted through the free weights. I got angry on the Lat Pull. And most importantly, I laughed in Zumba. I found out that the endorphins I released in my workouts not only distracted me from my moping, but it truly helped me be a happier person during one of the saddest times of my life. It pushed me to a new level of fitness, too. I have now become the gym junkie who feels so guilty when skipping the gym. I go 4-6 days a week instead of 2-3. I get teased at work for having Zumba on one day, spin on another, yoga on Sundays and weights thrown in there when I'm feeling up to it. It's the best thing that could ever warrant mockery.

I also realized that fitness is benefitting EVERY ASPECT OF MY LIFE. I've made friends in my exercise classes. I want to fuel my body with good food. I want to build my muscle. I want to challenge myself with a Tough Mudder (coming in June thanks to a kick-ass group of people from an online fitness community I was introduced to after writing my first body-conscious post). I've gained a confidence I've never had in regards to my physical appearance, and I am SO MUCH MORE LOVING TO MY BODY. Don't get me wrong, I still struggle with loving myself on occasion (not in that way dirty birds!), but in the long run, I remind myself of how far I've come and it fills me with a sense of pride that I'm still getting used to. I have so many more goals to fulfil.

When I started this journey in March, I could have gone back to the old way of doing things. The easy way. The unhealthy way. But this time I didn't. I pushed myself. I continue to push myself. And I'm not done pushing myself. Hopefully, I never will be.

Because now I'm addicted... and I don't want to go to rehab.

How can I take "ME TIME" without being Lazy?!

I think I love being lazy. Yet I totally hate being lazy. It's a very complicated relationship.

One part of me screams, "Netflix, gurrrllll. Get under that comforter and watch 'House' ALL DAY LONG!"

The other side of me says, "Um, have you looked at the time yet?! You've been sitting here for two hours. Do you know how clean your house could be in two hours?! Do you know how many calories you could have burned??!!"

Yesterday, I was totally taken over by the lazy bug. Mason was visiting and after two days of constantly going from one place to the next and staying up late, we ended up vegging out all day long. The sun was finally coming out and a few hours by the pool were just what we needed, followed up by watching a movie and making a batch of homemade lime-aid. So after dropping Mason back at the station - following a day of extreme laziness- what did I do?

I watched four hours of television.

Seems like a great idea right?! Well, I have this disease that I like to call lazy-guilt. I have been conditioned to think that I need to be busy. It's an epidemic that our generation has created and I have fallen victim. I have the delusional idea that I need to constantly be doing something productive.

But the thing that I need to remember is that it's okay to rest. It's okay to take a break. It's okay to binge watch the last month's worth of episodes of "Once Upon a Time," as long as you don't make it a regular habit. Our bodies, and brains, physically need some time to catch up with the busy lives we lead, and sometimes a day of relaxation is what it takes. HOWEVER, you cannot get addicted to the nothingness that is so relaxing. How can you find a balance between re-setting and laziness? 

1) Set yourself a limit. By setting a limit -whether it's time, number of episodes, etc- you will have a tangible boundary to maintain.
2) Find little tasks to do in the middle of relaxing. Fold Laundry, pick up your room while your laptop is buffering. Do 20 jumping jacks on each commercial break. Whatever you do, set yourself up for some little victories!
3) Use relaxation as a reward! Knock those chores out of the park before you curl up into your cocoon of down-comforter goodness. If you do this, you won't spend your time stressing over what all you SHOULD be doing while you're catching up on old One Tree Hill episodes that you've already seen five times.


It's a constant battle of wanting to take care of myself, but still fulfilling the tasks that need to be done and I can do both as long as there's a balance. Take care of YOU so that your stuff can get done eventually.



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