A Case of the X

This may come as a shock for some, but I'm not in the best shape.  And that joke would actually work if my body looked the way I treat it.  That is, I have the kind genetics of a tall and slender person, but I can tell you for certain that I'm 5'2" and 300lbs on the inside.

In the bigger sense of being an American citizen and placing myself into our health/weight statistics, I'm really not that out of shape.  For a 6'0" female in her early 20s, I'm right at the average fitness level.  (I'm measuring this by height, weight, BMI, body fat percentage, and general ability to do normal tasks like climbing up the stairs in my house.)  Still, to say that I'm happy with my image would be a lie.  Sure, we could do one of those "you are who you are" posts, but that's bullshit in my book.  You are who you allow yourself to be, and I've let myself be fat and lazy.

Well, no more!

The next three months will be the first 90 days of the rest of my life.  What's that?  You put the title and "90" together and worked it all out?  Yes, that's right folks.  I, alongside an immensely supportive boyfriend who shall henceforth be known as "White J," shall embark on the P90X mission.  Sure, it's an old workout, and apparently Insanity is all the craze now.  I've had these videos for a couple of years, borrowed from someone else who never used them, so these things are getting some play time.  Tomorrow I take the Fit Test to determine exactly where my body should begin, and come December 1, it's D-Day.  Or P-Day.  X-Day?

So why make my adventure log part of the public record?  Why make one more useless blog about a mundane topic that means some thing to a maximum of 3 people?  (10 if you're popular.)  The truth is, it's because I don't know if I can do it.

With the exception of very few things, I grow tired and distracted with the first appearance of unfavorable conditions.  Spoiling myself in that way has been easy, because excuses are easy friends.  They always seem to understand, and for every obstacle, they're right there by your side.  Unfortunately for them, some friendships grow apart, and this is going to have to be one of them!

If you're a friend of mine reading this, I hope you become one of my 3.  (I'd say 10, but it's tough to gauge popularity in this day and age. Wait, that's an excuse.  Fine – I'd say 10, but I'm not popular.)  I don't care if this log becomes a five minute read that helps break the monotony of a shit-awful job, or if it's the highlight of your night – the simple fact that you're reading means a lot to me.  Do us both a favor?  Let me know you were here!

See you on Day 1. (Or Day 90, haven't decided if I'm counting up or down.  Suggestions?  Pros/Cons?  This is irrelevant.)

See you when I start.