There have been times in my life – during the 7 to 10 days before my period – when I have become extremely lazy and lethargic. If you are not familiar with the definitions of these terms, you only need to visualize the following scenario:
Nikol needs something to eat for dinner, and after perusing the pantry, finds only bread with mold growing on it. She forces herself to get dressed so that she can drive to the grocery store, but getting dressed takes so. much. energy. So she doesn’t bother, and instead, drives to the grocery store in her pajamas. And slippers. Once she has arrived she shuffles, while draping the majority of her body over the shopping cart, up and down the aisles searching desparately for that one thing that will make her evening complete…that one morsel of food that makes her mouth water just to think about it. But nothing looks appetizing. And the things that do look appetizing take 20 minutes to prepare and at least another 20 minutes to cook. And reading the instructions on the sides of the boxes and bags make her exhausted. So after all the effort it took to drive to the grocery store and all the time she spent attempting to choose the meal that would make her night heavenly, she leaves her cart (with the chips, salsa, bread and milk already chosen) in the middle of aisle 13 and shuffles out of the grocery store. She then drives toward home and stops at the first fast food establishment that appears like an oasis, and orders the most food she can dream of eating. And then she eats it. All.
This scenario has not been a dramatization, has happened on more than one occassion, and is in part, if not wholly, the reason I have thirty pounds to lose. I have since been diagnosed with Pre-Menstrual Disphoric Disorder and it is a bastard, and it only wants to make me fat and lazy for almost two weeks out of every month. It was under control for the past few months, but now that I am no longer pumping artificial hormones into my system, this monster is back with a vengeance.
Last night I ate dinner and put a gun to my own head until I finally gave in and put my workout clothes on. I held myself hostage all the way to the gym parking lot. I got out of the truck, started walking toward the front door, had an overwhelming urge to fall on my knees and cry, and turned around to get back into my truck and drove back home.
When gas is $4/gallon, Who does that?