I quit. Sunday is my last day and I'm training my replacement for the next three days. I'm not proud of myself for quitting early, but I had to do it. The other day I was on an errand... driving... and I almost hit someone. They were surprisingly calm about the whole thing -- which was a pleasant surprise. No honk, no fingers flipped just an understanding nod when I mouthed that I was so terribly sorry and they drove on.
I just baked another loaf of cinnamon-chocolate chip-banana bread and I'm going to tuck in. From Monday fitness is my job again... I can't believe that over the last year I've let myself fall into such a state of FAT and unhealthy (I've gained at least 15 pounds from where I was last September). My motivation is that I'm seeing a friend I haven't seen in a few years at the end of the month -- I was a good 25 pounds lighter when he last saw me, so I don't want to disappoint too much. I'm not hoping for a miracle, not aiming for skinny jeans... just that I'd like for my ass to stop moving when the rest of me does. That's not setting the bar too high, right?
My lovely cat is sleeping at my feet here on the couch and I really don't want to go to work, but it's just three more days... six more shows. I've put up with much worse so I can do this.