Eating pizza is my birthright.
(Alright, so maybe that’s a bit dramatic; but I’m a dramatic person, okay?)
I was born in New York; and part of being born in New York is having a near-obsessive love of pizza, bagels, and Chinese food. Growing up, I saw nothing wrong with this
passionate fixation preference. But, now as I’m trying to live a healthier lifestyle, it’s been tough, to say the least.
Anyway, this weekend, I gave in and ate pizza. So, you may be thinking, no big deal. Correction: it would be ‘no big deal’ if I hadn’t ate four slices.
Yup, you read that right: Four slices.
So anyway, the natural step after such a (not-so-uncommon-relapse) would be the shame spiral. You know, the one where you berate yourself, pout, and then eat even more because-what’s-the-point-god-darnit).
Well, I’m proud to say I did NOT spiral. (Sure, it would have been better if I hadn’t quasi-gorged myself on pizza in the first place, but small steps. Small steps.)
Now on to exercise. (Yes, I actually did workout this weekend). It was raining pretty heavily, so I forgo-ed cycling) and hit the gym. I’m happy to say that
even though my arms are still strengthless noodles I can already see a difference! I’ve increased the weights on pretty much every machine I use. And, even my free-weight time was less agonizing than usual.
Just in case I was feeling too good about myself, I humbled myself by attempting some situps.