So my pedometer arrived and I have been using it fairly regularly. I do not believe it is beneficial to my weight loss because I did not lose any weight this week. In fact, I gained two ounces. I overate last weekend and blamed it on the Super Bowl but really, I am just glutton, both for food and for punishment. I ate so much that weekend that I felt physically uncomfortable and incredibly guilty for the rest of the week. I fear I get some perverse pleasure from letting myself down. I also believe that I almost enjoy spreading myself too thin so that I am miserable, like I believe that playing the martyr actually suits me.
When I began this entry, I was incensed because I thought I had lost the aforementioned pedometer while I was shopping at the local grocery store, lost forever to be trampled upon in crowded aisles or crushed under the rubber tires that constantly plague the somewhat dangerous parking lot. I found it, as my mom predicted I would, in the snow near my car in the driveway, slowly icing over. I am relieved to have found it, as I paid for it, but I’m hopeless – I am forever losing items of varying importance. On my better days, I attribute my scattered brain to my creative nature and on my worse days, I concede that I am a careless moron and nothing more. This past week, I am saddened to report that I lived through mostly worse days and few, if any, better days.
Sometimes, I think it is a wonder I completed a novel because I am so lazy, I feel that I never truly finish anything and that I am never truly prepared. Instead, I settle and rationalize and excuse.
But I don’t want to be a Debbie Downer; time for some positivity.
Even though I did not lose any weight, I did not really gain any weight, either. Two ounces is nothing and really, the damage should have been much worse but I have kept up and even increased my exercise regimen. There is an excellent chance that I am building muscle which weighs more than fat. Also, without being too graphic for any readers of the male persuasion, some strictly feminine biological factors did come into play. Maybe that’s why I’ve totally been all about the self-loathing.
It snowed this weekend and the result was beautiful, absolutely beautiful. Running (really I was jogging, but let’s not ruin the moment or the sentiment with details, shall we?) uphill through the snow against the wind is really empowering. I almost enjoyed running.
Though this week’s way to blast blubber was a reminder that housework is NOT exercise, I decided to do both. I followed my routine and cleaned my room. I put new sheets on the bed and hung portraits of my male, musician idols above my bed. I should have cleaned the mirror and vacuumed but again, I’m lazy.
I am excited to announce that I have had something of a breakthrough concerning my second novel; the young lover that the musician’s wife becomes involved with is really going to be an up and coming serial killer. I am fascinated by human beings who seem to completely lack an inherent, intrinsic and somewhat sacred respect for human life. I believe the addition of that plotline will allow me to flex my characterization muscle and also add a needed complexity to the theme. I want to focus on the fear of aging and the fear of death, and the parallel between those fears and youth, beauty and the false accompanying notion of invincibility. Adding a serial killer – a tangible monster – as the antithesis of both is an intriguing dynamic.
At least, I think so. 🙂