Wakey Wakey

I've managed to stay out of the self-pity wallowing that I expected to follow the end of my relationship with my boyfriend. I think. I'm slightly afraid that it's making me seem callous and shallow...or callow...shallus? Hah. Whatever.

Clearly, distracting myself from reality isn't that much of a problem for me.

Anyway, I still haven't actually managed to refer to him as "my ex" more than once when speaking to everyone at work (pretty much everyone knows now). He's always just 'Jon'. I figure that's okay - seven years is a long time. It's pretty much the entirety of my adult life. There's going to be hangups like that - all I can do is accept them and move on. Or, at least, do my best to. Easier said than done, and all that.

It's just...it's a giant bag of dicks, is what it is.

And at the same time...I feel like I've finally come up for air, after being smothered for too long. Or like I'm waking up, after being asleep for ages. Or...any other similie, really, that represents a growing awareness of...freedom. Sun coming out from behind clouds and similar. It's like I've come to the head of a valley and there's all these trails to take and wonderful things down each one and I'll shut up now before I delve into sappiness, but the point is, giant bag of dicks aside, I actually feel alive for the first time in...I don't even know how long.

Going to the gym is helping a lot with this. A lot. I'm feeling good about how I look for the first time in at least three and a half of the last seven years, I'm flexible as all hell again (and can actually get my head to my knee without pre-stretching now, which I haven't been able to do in years), and beginning to re-teach myself basic synchro. Plus, I'm getting a friggin' corset in a couple of months or so. I'm already up to $17 of the $145, and this after a little over a week of gyming it.

That's a new word, that. Gyming. Or gymming. Not sure on the exact spelling, even though I'm the one that invented it, but there you have it. Next I just have to get it into the common lexicon. >:D

Seriously, though, I feel a little guilty about feeling so uplifted and free. And then I also feel guilty about missing the complacency that I'd been living in, of wanting to fall back into old patterns rather than move on and - at the same time - for wanting to move on. It's perverse, really. Backwards.

But I'm not turning into a crazy cat lady. That's for damn certain.

Motivational Motivation

So, I had a brainwave the other day...and no, it didn't hurt. :P

Anyway, I got it into my head that I really, really want this corset, and since I need to save up money for it (and I'm terrible at this), I figured I'd need a sweet plan to do this. So I decided that every time I go to the gym, go swimming, or whatever else (like skating or walking to the Maligne and back), I was going to put $1 in a jar.

The purpose of this is twofold: 1) I save up for a sweet-ass corset that's gorgeous and handmade, and 2) by the time I've saved up enough money for it, I'll be in killer shape.

So far, motivational motivation is working. I've only been at this a few days, and I already have $11 of the $145 ish I need. And as for the money itself...it's money I'd otherwise be spending on junk food.

>:D

Now I just need to motivate myself to start putting away funds for Wales...because I still haven't done that yet, and need a prod in the buttocks as much as I need to slim down said buttocks.

Hahahaha...buttocks.

And, on that note, I'm going to go read the Fitzhugh. Because it's Fitzhugh day. Woot!