22 down. 528 to go.

this day had it's ups and downs. i made the mistake of getting on the scale after a weekend of doing nothing healthy for myself at all. monkey bread! vodka! loaded waffle fries! and the scale told me the truth this morning. i know it's just one measurement of the progress (or lack of progress) that i'm making, but it always either completely makes my day awesome or makes my day suck butt.

so, we were off to a rip-roaring start this morning, feeling all suck butt about everything. but i was able to stop the self-loathing enough to put myself together fairly decently (meaning, i wore something other than a sweatshirt and a pair of dirty jeans to work) and did my hair. i made the children a breakfast and lunch that could pass as real food, and packed up all of my stuff for the day and we made it to the bus on time.

8:30am. on the way to work, i remembered why i never, ever wear anything white:
this is why we can't have nice things.

i cleaned the coffee stains off of my shirt, and made my breakfast: greek yogurt, 1/2 a chopped apple, and a few tablespoons of bob's red mill muesli.
i eat at my desk. it's a glamorous life.

10:00am. i put these in my face:

a guy broke up with me in college once because he said i had "man hands".
he did us both a favor.

12:30pm. lunch was leftovers from last night: spaghetti squash and sausage marinara with heavy cream (because sabotage). i ate half of what i brought to work.

this looks very unappealing.

after lunch, i wrote down the word 'consistency' on a post-it note slapped put it on my computer monitor. because that is what i'm going to task myself with this year - consistency. i was feeling pretty good last week about my habits, my running, and the scale was moving in the direction i wanted it to (straight to hell... i mean, down). then i slipped right back into "2015 ashley" and didn't do hardly anything to take care of myself mentally or physically this weekend... other than watching downton abbey. i mean, who doesn't feel good watching those hungry-looking stick figures walk around in those expensive dresses, being all judgmental and needy?

everyone love-hates her.

3:00pm. i knew i was going to have to run today, since i hadn't worked out since thursday and that was too long ago. plus, whenever i hate myself, running helps me love myself again. i needed something in my stomach to get me through the run:

sourdough wasa. peanut butter. 1/2 an apple.

after work, i decided to go and face the treadmill. i didn't want to, and i needed everything to go smoothly in order for me to actually get onto the treadmill. i got to the gym, and checked my bag: only one sports bra. i cannot run in one sports bra. i always wear two. i wanted to say "fuck it" and pack up and leave, but i figured i could manage as long as i ran facing the window and put the one sports bra over my "street bra". but then i realized that i had brought the way wrong socks. i have specific socks that i wear when i run, and i own approximately 15 pairs of them. but apparently in my delirium this morning, i grabbed a pair of super thin, super cheap, holes-in-the-toe old socks. i saw these, and given the incident with the lack of 2nd bra, really wanted to say "fuck it". but i didn't. i sucked it up, got changed, and dealt with it. all of it. and the run went well. i was all sweaty, and as the sweat rolled off of my face, i stopped feeling sorry for myself for really nothing at all, and got over it.

whenever i finish running, i religiously head to an abandoned 'flex room' at the gym and stretch in the dark, alone. the gym was crowded tonight, so it was hard to find a room to myself, but i did. about half way through stretching, a gentleman walked into the room, plopped himself down on the floor and began doing whatever he was there to do. so there we are, two strangers in the dark, minding our own business in flex room 2, and then it begins: the grunting, the groaning, the giggling, the audible-noises coming from his mouth. and it was loud. i figured he was probably listening to something funny and didn't realize how loud he was being. so i tried to avoid staring at him and continued doing my own thing. when i finally finished and got up to leave, i realized he did not have any earbuds in. no music, no phone, no iPod, nothing. he had been making these noises and grunts and giggles and he knew he was doing it. 

did you hear that?

5:30pm. i abandoned the gorilla in the flex room and headed home for dinner, which was amazing. black beans, 1/2 a sweet potato, broccoli and spinach-salsa saute.
a metric fuck ton of food.

i'm glad that i didn't self-sabotage today... i really wanted to. i wanted to eat all the donuts i could find in my zip code for breakfast, but i didn't. i wanted to quit on my running plans when i realized all of the wardrobe malfunctions, but i showed up anyway.

until next time,
ashley "it's getting louder in here" rebekah


  1. Well done homegirl. No earbuds lol.

  2. Ok you could have been raped by that weird grunting neanderthal! Stranger danger! AKA the wrong socks are the LEAST of my problems! Be careful. Yourmom.

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