Today, I took the reigns.
No appointment was made FOR me...*I* made the appointment....and NOT because I *HAD* to, but because I *wanted* to.
I went to the Y and signed up for the Livestrong program.
Now, I don't really give a hairy rats' ass about Armstong and his doping and his Tours de France (or anywhere else).
I give a shit that the man gives back.
So...screw the haters.
Hmph.
Anyway, so I am sitting there, completely feeling weirdly comfortable in a cramped, stuffy office, giving the intake RN all my info. I couldn't even understand why I was so comfortable, I just knew I was. And while foreign a feeling lately, it was pretty awesome.
And then, at the close, she asked me what I hoped to get from the program...and the light dawned.
"I want my life back. I want to do something for me that isn't about the cancer." Yeah, I have steroid weight to lose, but I was always physically fit---until these last few months. I've lifted weights most of my adult life. I was always strong (I always tell the man he's lucky he didn't marry a delicate creature when we do work around the house). But lately? Weak as shit. And always tired...well guess what?
Screw. That. Noise.
I am gonna do this program and I am gonna feel good and I am gonna get my size 6's back over my ass.
Yes I am.
And I am doing it not because exercise is good for cancer prevention (because, let's face it...it prevented NOTHING)...I am doing it because I look good when I exercise.
Vanity.
I've never had a lot...(thank God, or the last few months would have devastated me) but I do have some.
I'm glad I tapped it, once again. She and I are gonna evict this free-loading cancer bitch from my life.
And we're gonna look good doing it.
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