I worked out today. That might not seem monumental, but it is. I have been in a serious funk since November or so - first it was bronchitis, then the holidays, and then I got sick with what I now believe is a MRSA infection (two, back to back), then Matthew got sick with the same and was hospitalized, and I just somewhere along the line lost it. I haven’t stepped on a scale in forever, my bag of weight watchers materials taunts me, and my case of fitness DVDs, bulging like my waistline, taunts me.

A couple of weeks ago I bought a TransFirmer, to replace the one I gave to Erin when we left Chicago. It has sat in the entry way to our apartment since Saturday, before I decided at some point this afternoon to get busy with the rest of my life and open the damned thing up. First up, Jiggle Free Arms (”Let’s get funky!” Stephanie says while not sweating a damned bit and smiling when my muscles are screaming in anger).

I don’t know what switch went off, but I am holding out a glimmer of hope that this is the kickstart I need. These last few months have been a cycle of not-good and my body is bearing the brunt of my head’s discontent. I miss the days when I worked out solid, day in and day out. I miss running, I miss 5Ks and most of all I miss the sleek muscles my body was just getting the hang of.

Tomorrow morning, I plan to get on the scale, backwards (I learned something from watching Lifetime TV Movies while visiting my mother) and have Josh weigh me and he can keep track of my weight and measurements. If left to my own devices, I tend to weigh obsessively and lose sight of the overall goal of a healther and fitter body. I plan to eat a healthy, balanced breakfast and lunch, and dinner. I plan to drink more water than diet Coke. I miss my old self and I am not going to keep blaming the onset of motherhood as a reason for her departure. I am getting that person back, dammit.