Do you know what I really hate about being a woman? It's the random surges of hormones that seem to fly in from nowhere that transform you from normal, rational person to angry, tearful person for no apparent reason. This doesn't seem to happen to men. And they blame us for being moody. But honest guv, it's not our fault.
My hormones play a game of stealth. I wake up feeling slightly irritable (normally because I've been woken by a small person trying to pry my eye open and saying repeatedly: I want milk. I want milk. I want milk). As the day progresses, I become increasingly down in the dumps. I feel that whatever I try I'm useless at. So I don't bother trying. I do nothing. So I feel more useless. This then kicks in the 'I'm rubbish at everything. I should just give up and never work again. I'm a failed mother, failed wife, failed business person, failed everything' train of thought. Before you know it, my mildly bad day has a very large ominous black cloud hovering over it threatening a deluge at any moment.
The deluge usually takes place when something trivial happens. Like the tumble dryer not drying the clothes properly. It's the straw that breaks the camels back. Tears follow. As does a sharp kick to the tumble dryer. Normally followed by more tears because of a bruised foot. I can then either have a glass of wine and hope it all seems better the next day or I can do some exercise so that I get some natural endorphins charging about to fight off the gloomy hormones or I can attempt to do something super constructive like sort through all the things I've been meaning to eBay so that I feel as though I've at least ticked something off my to do list for the day.
Quite frankly, it's not going to be eBay today. It really, really should be exercise. Really. Wine will not help the size of my already voluminous backside and stomach. Exercise will. Exercise will make me feel better. Exercise will help me mentally, physically, emotionally and hormonally. I have to do it.
This is me summoning up the will to do it.................
I'm going to do it....
Am going....
Gone.
P.S. I might round my exercise off with a glass of wine.
1 comment:
I always found opening a bottle of wine quite an exhausting process. Surely that counts as exercise?
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