I’ve been tired.
I mean, UNNATURALLY tired.
I mean, SOMETHING DOESN’T FEEL RIGHT tired.
And then it hit me, I haven’t been taking my iron.
I’ve been anemic since my first Ob-Gyn appointment. I’ve never been able to give blood because of my iron-deficient blood. And when I forget to take my iron? There are days I can barely motivate myself to stay awake, let alone move.
This job, which sucks what little mental energy I had to begin with, right out of the few brain cells I possess, coupled with the fact that it’s a sedentary job, has NOT helped my tired levels.
I finally got smart and took my little red pill both Saturday and Sunday and today? I feel like a new woman! It’s AMAZING how much more ALERT and AWAKE I feel when I take my iron. I felt SO good, in fact, that I actually worked out. I did 20 minutes of EA Sports and then I walked 2.5 miles while watching “Brothers and Sisters.” (A guilty pleasure, I must admit).
And though I’m tired now, it’s a different kind of tired. It’s a HEALTHY sort of tired. I’m pleasantly tired and know I will sleep pretty soundly tonight.
Kevin is relieved. He never says anything about my weight gains (smart man), but I can tell he’s pretty happy whenever I get back into my workout modes.
I’d rather sit and watch TV. I rather surf the Internet and get fired up about politics (I have SO MANY thoughts on what’s happening right now, ya’ll, but UGH, that requires a little more mental energy than I’m capable of) …
… but I also dislike how tight my pants have become. I’m not exactly crazy about my jiggly arms, either. Or the extra roll of fat that has suddenly appeared in my pelvis region.
This simply will not do.
I will not succumb to this weight gain, I simply won’t.
I refuse to buy bigger clothes to accommodate my growing girth (a common problem judging by the fact that the majority of Americans are overweight), I force myself to cut back on the chocolate (Mmmmm … chocolate), and I force myself to MOVE, even though that’s the last thing I really want to do when I get home from work every day.
Though I will never likely have the hard body I once had (wait – when was that exactly?), I REFUSE to get any bigger than I already am.
And not because I think Kevin won’t love anymore.
And not because I’m afraid of what society will think of me.
But because I don’t want to be any bigger.
And I like being alive and living my life, quite frankly.
It’s time to stop killing ourselves and get a grip on this weight problem – don’t you think?