Guys, I’ve been to the gym. Twice. And sure, both times I’ve nearly died after a mere 20 minutes and I have to follow my boyfriend around asking how all the machines work, but I’ve been. I’ve dragged my arse out of bed at 6am, put on a sports bra and done something. And I feel fucking great. I mean, apart from the ache in my shoulders and the earth-shattering tiredness and the desperate need for gym clothes that aren’t 6 years old and threatening to burst every time I lunge. Only time will tell how long this motivation and endorphin rush will last, but I feel hopeful that it will be more successful than my last stint at the gym (I paid for a membership for almost 8 months and went maybe 4 times).
If I’m honest, the sole reason I keep getting up and out (twice), is because of my boyfriend. Without him and his support, I’d probably still be snoring away now. So thanks, honey pie, you the best. And it just really shows the importance of a decent support system. When tackling issues or problems or one of life’s many hurdles, it’s always that much easier to do so with someone by your side, cheering you on. Or, in my case, helping me with my squat positioning and then taking sneaky pictures to show me how good my butt looks. Even though we’re a mere 48 hours in and, by the end of the week, I’ll likely be ready to string him up for telling me what to do, I feel heart-burstingly grateful right this minute.
This week is pleasingly short. It was (obviously) Bank Holiday, I had a late start on Tuesday morning owing to a re-scheduled therapy session and I have Friday off for my gorgeous scuzz’s wedding (see previous posts for keyword explanation). I am so fucking excited I could rip my mother-loving clothes off. I can’t wait. She’s going to be the most beautiful bride probs ever and to share their special day means the world to me. Plus, I got a new outfit and I’m going to look hella cute.
And thennnnn, it’s my birthday week. My Amazon wish list is available, do contact me for the link should you be so inclined. I can’t believe I’m going to be 25, and I can’t believe it’s been six months since my quarter life crisis. As aforementioned in said post, as a little girl, 25 was the age I set for myself to settle down, get married and start reproducing like crazy. Excuse me while I snort with laughter. I am only just (emphasis on the just) managing to keep my geranium, Linda, alive. I often have to compromise on my baked beans because I can’t afford the branded variety. And let me tell you know, they do NOT taste the same. I’m in no real position to raise another human being (although I’ll settle for a small, fluffy pet, if my boyfriend is reading this). But I’m bloody excited for what this year is to bring. There is SO much to be excited about. The future alone, is the most incredible prospect. Ideas and adventures and relationships that you have no idea about are coming your way. Live for THAT!