Keeping it real.

I'm a real human being. And sometimes, my life isn't as excitingly happy as it seems. 

Not that today was bad. 

Today was just, real. Raw. Human.

I was in a funk all day that I just couldn't shake.

Last night, since I had the time, I decided to bang out level one and two of Biggest Loser Boot Camp. I loved it.

When I got done, I decided to treat myself by eating one of my chocolate peppermint stick Luna bars. Yum!

And then I decided, hell - that was so good... how 'bout another one?

And after that one, I just walked back to the kitchen, opened the drawer, and looked at the three remaining. They stared back at me, taunting me. 

"Come on," they said. "You burned some MAJOR calories doing boot camp. Have us!"

And so I did. But I left one survivor. 

Four. I ate four Luna bars. 180 calories each. 780 calories.

And how many had I burned doing Biggest Loser bootcamp? About 500.

It really didn't effect me until I totaled up those calories and when I did, I was disappointed in myself.

You just entered into a DietBet. The pot is now $2025. You convinced your friend to join you. You have major plans this month. What are you doing?

I got over it by the end of the night. And decided that from here on out, no more buying multiple chocolate peppermint stick Luna bars. They are mean.

Flash forward to today.

Normally, I wake up EXCITED to go to the gym. This is MY time. I spend the 15 minute drive drinking my protein drink planning on what I'm going to do with shear anticipation.

"Okay. Today I'll do 12 minutes--no 13 minutes on the stair master. And then I'll run for 15. And don't forget to do those butt lift things in that new magazine!" 

But today was different. For the first time in a long time, I tried to talk myself out of going to the gym the whole way there. I even stopped at a store to kill some time in between. I looked at the most random products. I convinced myself I needed them and then talked myself out of them. I left with toilet paper, strawberry gum, and a bag of dark chocolate Lindt truffles.

I decided to bribe myself into going to the gym.

"Look," I told myself. "If you just knock out some time on the stair mill and 10 minutes of running and burn at least 300 calories, you can have one truffle when you get out."

It worked. I walked in that gym, got straight to the point, and when my Polar FT7 said "300 calories", I stretched, washed my face, put on my fleece, and got the hell out.

And, for the record, I only ate one truffle. 

And also, for the record, I've locked the rest of them in my glove compartment. But I've thought about going out there to get one all night. But I'm not going to. Because I have plans this month.

It's like the healthy-inner-me called in sick today. I haven't been in this kind of a funk in a long time. And I didn't like it one bit.

But tomorrow's a new day. And I'm going to wake up, get dressed, get my ass in that gym and earn my truffle. Whether I'm happy about it or not.