I have been going to the gym for about two weeks. Non-stop. And I am not going to start the cycle of stop->depressed->binge->purge again. I realise that when I work out, I feel strong, productive and healthy.
Some may say that I am being obsessed. As a matter-of-factly, I am not very. Not very. I just love to work out and see how much stronger my legs have become with each day of two hours spent in the gym. I eat normally, I feel happy, and my body looks more upright and strong. To feel beautiful, strong, and relieved after busting my anger and frustration on the rowing machine, the leg lift, the dumb bells, the treadmill... and all the other machines, 2 hours per day is worth it. I don't feel pain. I look forward to go into that place all the time, because the people are nice in there, except for that asshole I talked about last night. One of the trainers there is the mother of my friend, Corey. So it's kind of cool. We'll talk about the day and everything... it just seems like a nice thing to do: Sit down for a drink of water, and recollect the day and share the problems with somebody... it's just great.
Not many girls are as dedicated. I once brought a good friend of mine, Gillian, to work out with me, because she wanted to train for a marathon or something like that. Just one session and she gave up. She admitted that she didn't need to train for any fucking marathon but instead, she wanted to lose some pounds, but she gave up.
"Dieting is easier than this. How do you do this shit?" she confessed.
Yeah, I have to admit that dieting is easier, but it makes me feel deprived. And psychologically, it's not going to help you feel better about yourself. I think working out in front of the mirror and looking at it, can make you feel stronger and better about yourself eventually. The first time I went to the gym I was so self-conscious, I was basically running with my head hung low because I did not have the esteem to look at my "flabby" self. But after a few sessions, with the help of a promise ring I bought for myself to keep persevearing and keep working out, I began to feel better about myself...and started to look at the mirror..and I feel much better about myself.
I think if I can assure myself that I am doing fine, and I work out often enough to make myself productive, I wouldn't be bulimic like what I am right now. However, I have not done anything bulimic at all for two weeks... and am very pleased about that. I hope that will continue... I hope it will.
It helps that about 10 of my friends commented on my culinary skills today, saying that I "cook and bake very well and [I] make delicious foods".
That compliment makes me feel happy. I thought I cook okay. I rarely cook for myself, but I have pride in doing them of course... if I cook bad, I would still eat it and say that it tastes good. I love charred foods, like charred french frys and stuff, but eversince I heard about the cancer-causing chemical, carnicogen, which forms when food is overcooked, I become more wary.
I don't wanna lose myself to cancer. Ever. I don't wanna lose anyone to diseases. I hope my dad will eventually stop smoking and give his liver a rest from pollution. My mom... her cholesterol level is sky-high but she still never work out at all... always taking short cuts... always giving in to temptation..
My mom used to be so petite... so small. Dave, I, and Sean are to blame for her size. But it feels nice that she has a lot of self-esteem in her. I like the fact that although my mom is not in a good shape, she doesn't have double chins, and she looks 10 years younger than her age of 45. She doesn't have grey hairs... and she looks so happy all the time. I have the feeling that although in the exterior she's big, she's a slim girl in disguise. She just have this great confidence in her that attracts people.
Don't laugh, but really, when my mother and I go out together, I could see people turning their heads to look at my mom. And they smiled. At her. No, not me. At her. Blergh. She's good with people. She has more friends than me, and she always gets things free or discounts.
When I grow old, I still want to work and look my best. Just like my mom, so full of confidence and life, and does not let her size weigh her down. It's totally admirable to me, who quite somewhat care a lot about my appearance. My mom is special. Most overweight people have no esteem in themselves and always blame hereditary. My mom admits that she loves to cook and eat because she said she could only live once and that is it.
But really, she should cut down on her cholesterol... it really just worries me.
11:41 p.m. - 2004-06-30
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