The Gym

I like going to the gym.
I like clearing my head, getting on the treadmill and cranking up the music. Or the TV. And sweating was never so much fun.

I wanted to get up early enough to take belly dancing class today, however, I didn't. Last night was fun hanging and talking about boys, lack of boys, and boys in the future. Ahh, boys.

But this is a post about the gym. I stayed up way past my bedtime, and didn't make it to class this morning. I really want to try this class, it looks like fun. I used to dance, back in my childhood, and was always one of the first ones on a dance floor in my teens. Now, not so much. I'd like to be a better partner dancer, if for nothing else, the weddings coming up I'd like to not make a complete ass of myself. And maybe get a little exercise in there when I can.

The last couple days I have been feeling restless and anxious. I'm not really sure why. But let me tell you, I am excited to hit the gym today. Because going makes the scale go down. I am in a heavy losing mode these last three weeks and I'd like to be down 72 pounds by the time I get to Mexico. I've got about 10 to go, and I think it's totally do-able. Just something to shoot for.

I can't believe how well my broken by-pass surgery is going. I can't believe that I feel different than how I've always felt. I'm turning into that person without all that armor-- not weak, but fortified by her internal strength rather than her width. It's not a surgery for everyone, and it's not a quick fix, however, for me, it is the most positive solution to a lifelong issue.