The pregnancy test that I took this morning confirmed exactly what I’ve been thinking all along; that once again, I’m not pregnant. Why did I think this? No idea. Why am I still not knocked up, after eleven months of trying? No idea. But what I do know is that these last eleven months have really taught me something about patience and perseverance (and about how to make and consume a killer chocolate cupcake).
I’ve recently taken my health into my own hands, and made an effort to lose some weight and feel better overall. Drinking water is just part of that; I’ve also been avoiding processed carbs, and I’ve actually (wait for it, brace yourselves) GONE TO THE GYM. I know you guys don’t know me in real life, so you’re probably thinking “Yeah, okay, so you went to the gym. I go every day.” But if you had met me, if you did know me in the real world, you would blink a few times, take a step back, and slowly begin applauding.
I do not exercise. Ever. I have fibromyalgia, which is a chronic pain disorder, and has basically incapacitated me for most of my life. Or so I thought. I’ve grown so accustomed to saying no to physical activity and avoiding situations where I might have to exert myself. In the past, when I have exercised, I pay for it for days afterward, every joint aching and just generally feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck.
So this week, fed up with the fifty extra pounds that have taken up residence around my middle (and only my middle, weird..), I accepted an invitation to a spin class at our local gym. Seriously…a spin class. I couldn’t just ease into things, no, I had to jump headfirst into it.
And you guys, I LOVED it. Endorphins = awesome. And now I’m going all the time. As in FOUR days in a row.
So I had a cupcake to celebrate. This one, to be exact. Recipe to follow.