I just worked out.  I really, really didn't want to.  I felt the excuse bear threatening to attack, and even after determining that I WOULD work out I saw the (new!) comfy loveseat with my husband's pillows and my Seahawks blanket (thanks again, Gracie!) and I decided I'd just snuggle back in and watch disc 2 from the second half of the third season of Entourage (figure that one out).

And then... I put on socks, shoes, a bra; I grabbed a sweat towel and re-filled my cup with water; I put in the Biggest Loser Workout vol. 2 DVD; I set it to 15 minutes of exercise; I worked out.

I got frustrated because my back was tight and I was hot and sweaty and I can't bend into lunges and I didn't have enough space and I HATE THIS! and my big fat stomach just keeps swinging from side to side, mocking me, and yes, Bob, that stretch does feel good but you suck and I hate you for putting me through this, and you are so right that it's not about burning calories it's about taking care of this body and I should have a better attitude but I don't and this sucks but I'm going to keep moving no matter what because I will- I WILL- finish my commitment to work out for 15 minutes today and oh! snap!  I'm done!

In the 3 minutes of typing this (and messing around with iTunes, I can't lie) the sweat on my face has dried and my body temp has dropped and my anger and frustration have waned.  

The heavens haven't burst open in song, and I'm not suddenly addicted to the joys of working out, but I'm sure there are some attitude boosting endorphins in there somewhere working toward my brain.

I will be obedient in eating today and at the end of the day I will be closer to healthy and farther from unhealthy, even if it is just an itty bitty bit.  It's something.

Now, off to shower and spend some time with Jesus-- and to make a fruit smoothie!  Yummo!