Thursday, November 10, 2005

I Hate Myself

As I was out for my evening run (to help stave off the fatness that has started growing throughout my lazy ass body), I got to thinking about why I exercise.  It’s gotten to be so much of a regular thing I wonder why I keep up with it.  Some days… well, a lot of days, I really don’t feel like going for a run or lifting or anything else physical, but I still do it.

And I do it because when I look in the mirror in the mornings, I hate what I see.  Now I can already hear a bunch of you thinking, “You really need to learn to like yourself.  It’s not healthy to dislike how you look.  That isn’t a good thing.”  To you naysayers, I say you are wrong.

When I think about it, if I were to look at myself in the mirror and love what I see, where would the motivation to better myself be?  Sure, I might still want to improve my looks a little or keep myself looking like I currently do, but there wouldn’t be that drive to strive for more, to dig deep and run that extra mile, to do that extra set of push ups, or to actually get off your ass to exercise in the first place.

I know that if I liked how I looked I’d be way too complacent in my exercise schedule.  It’s the hate that drives me.  It’s looking in the mirror and seeing that I don’t have a six pack any more.  It’s catching a glance of ass and thinking it’s too round and jiggly.  It’s touching my arms and feeling that they’re not rock hard.  These things make me angry and my anger fuels the fire of self improvement.

The only problem that I’ve experienced lately is that I have the fire.  I have the hate.  I just don’t have the fortitude to do anything about it.  To say that my life has been a jumbled up ball of stress would be like saying Carrot Top is only kind of annoying or that Tara Reid is only a little bit of a whore.  As I try to deal with that stress, I often find that I let myself fume and/or sulk instead of applying the stresses of my life to pushing myself even harder.

Along with the above problem, I also find that I eat a heck of a lot more when I get stressed out.  It’s always been that way for me.  Finals week in college I could always expect to put on about 5-10 pounds because I’d dive into my studies so hard that I’d not exercise and then the added stress would lead me to constantly eat and eat and eat and eat… and then eat some more.

With basketball starting this week, I’m trying to make an active effort to be even better about exercising and trying to eat normal portions of good food.  The hate that I feel for my looks has grown and grown over the last few weeks and it’s starting to reach a point where I won’t even want to look in the mirror any more.  

It’s time to run that extra mile, put down that bag of jalapeƱo chips, and let the hate fuel me.  It’s time to look good again.  It’s time for me to get motivated and give the finger to the fat that so expertly infests my body.  It’s on.

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