Go to college, they said.
Get a career, they said.
You’ll be fine, they said.
Obviously, when they said fine, they weren’t speaking physically, because my waist line determined that was a lie. Since I started my first post grad “real world” job in February, I have gained 10 pounds. I know there’s some unsympathetic mom of 3 out there rolling her eyes and reading this saying “it’s only 10 pounds.” Well listen, Mom of 3, I don’t have super powers like you yet and if I continue on this trajectory, I’ll be 55 pounds heavier by my 30th birthday. Do you know what an extra 55 pounds looks like on someone who’s 5’1 ½? Diabetes. It looks like diabetes.
No one warned me about this. I took for granted the fact that I worked at a gym and ran around with kids all day in workout clothes, which made it ten times easier to actually work out. I took for granted that I could fit in a workout at almost any time of the day because I was free. I took for granted that I actually had the energy to workout and time to pack food and snacks. Now, I come to my very nicely decorated cube and sit for four hours. Then I go eat. Then I come back and sit for four more. Then I drive an hour to get home and realize I am hungry, again. So, I eat. Then it’s dark and I try to muster up some energy for a workout. But I don’t have it. So I tell myself I’m going to get up early in the morning, before [the all-consuming] work to break a sweat. And when my alarm goes off, I open my eyes and realize that it’s still dark, I’m still tired, and I need five more minutes, which turns into 20, and then turns into an hour. Every morning. Same game.
Then there’s Friday. Glorious Friday. When you’ve been spinning on the hamster wheel all week, Friday comes in like a knight in shining armor, saying, “hey beautiful. You wanna go to happy hour? They’ve got half priced margaritas? You deserve it. You’ve had a long week.” Sometimes, Friday says, “I’d really love to cuddle up with you on the couch tonight and watch low budget independent films. Pizza or Chinese?” Either way, Friday is not telling you to be healthy or make good choices. Not once does Friday say, “You’ve had enough Mexican food. Perhaps you should eat a salad,” or “staying up all night is really gonna throw off your circadian rhythm. You should get some rest.” And even though you know better, you listen to Friday.Then, by Sunday, I’m declaring that I’ll have a better week. I’ll make better choices. I’ll be a better me. Sometimes I do. Most of the time I don’t.
This transition into being an adult is rough on the psyche and I feel like I’m going through puberty again. But I’m not hopeless. Not at all. I’m gonna get it together. So far I have learned that I like working out with friends (used to be the complete opposite). I also hate the gym (also, used to be the complete opposite.)
Now that I know what I don’t like, I get the chance to explore what I do. I’m going to set a goal to try a new fitness activity every month. Maybe I’ll find one that sticks. Maybe I’ll fall in love with variety. Either way, I’m enjoying this roller coaster called life and fumbling my way through this post grad era. After all, the journey is what makes the destination worth it.
Health is wealth. Let’s get rich, y’all. Suggestions welcome.
How do you do that whole having a job, but also taking care of the other important things in life balancing act?