Take a moment and celebrate some achievement in your life. Or be grateful for something you have been doing for a while and are very proud of. Or be grateful for an anniversary of some sort. Or think about something that made you happy once. Or be thankful to somebody for helping you in a way. Or just celebrate by doing something that you enjoy and warms your heart in a special way. Take that moment to celebrate.
These past few days I have been thinking about two years ago, at the moment when, on the 2nd of November 2012, I first started working out. It was indoors, at home, but it was the start of something good in my life, even though at first (and sometimes, now too) I thought it was a pain and wanted so much to never go through it for long. But you know the weird way that life works. It works so “weirdly”, that I’m sitting now, wishing I had worked out in these past few days, instead of just sitting idly and watch the days go by. I had such muscle pains I hadn’t experienced in a long time, that I had to take a break from my exercise routine. I experienced a new type of working out, by electric stimuli and low intensity exercise at the same time. It took a toll on my body. And I realized I kind of miss my old-school work-outs. And I want to celebrate that, cause after two years, I long for something I didn’t think I would long for and I feel anxious about working out again.
When I first started out, I thought everybody would understand. But the difference in generations expands even to this field of health, eating habits and sport. My parents tell me even now that I lost too much weight, that my face is too skinny and that my eyes have gone in my sockets. That I look worn. My grandmother agrees with them and wishes I was the way I used to be. I found a picture taken at Christmas a few years back and I was so chubby in the face, that I couldn’t believe it was me (that chubbiness is a sign of good health, according to my folks).
And what I also want to celebrate is the idea that healthy eating goes hand in hand with my passion for baking (or even cooking, I might add). Want to eat sweet stuff? Want to eat chocolate? Make your own. And THAT is another difficult thing to do. Say ‘no’ when you’re invited for a bite, ignoring the sweet aisle in a supermarket, or taking your eyes off a good looking dessert in a pastry shop. Moving on is so hard. It takes motivation, skills and will (the latter failed me sometimes, but people fail at stuff, inevitably). I celebrate the idea of recipes for everything, especially Nutella and chocolate and cookies.
I am not sure what’s more difficult. Keeping motivated each and every day, “fighting” the family thinking or eating proper food, when at each corner there’s some dough or chocolate screaming at you pick me, pick me? Might be the whole lot, all wrapped up and put over your shoulders while you’re doing a push up. That’s a nice image, isn’t it? Think about that before you make me do a push up (never been a fan and can’t do them properly).
I know at least two people who will read this and agree, even partially.
There was a saying I read somewhere… “Sweat is fat crying.” Think about that when you work out. ;)