I nearly gave up.
There are no beginners, and there are very few real experts.
Taking stock over the last few weeks, I've realised how much of my own bullshit I've happily bought into - and now I want a fucking refund.
Tick that box, Beale, because you deserve a goddamn trophy...
With every change I saw, and see, happening, my heart simultaneously breaks, and yet, is healed again.
I watch myself doing all of these things that ultimately lead me to the place where this situation no longer exists, deconstructing these bricks of a past life, seeing every piece in almost infinite detail.
I'm staring at this government-issued document like it's my last fucking chance at freedom.
Some people balance obligations with recreation successfully. I am not that person.
When you truly want something, you really do have it within your power to face whatever fear sits alongside it.
Is that any way to live? Mitigating pain by offsetting it against a joyful compartment of your existence? It's essentially escapism, avoidance; a dance around authenticity, skirting the edges of your own integrity and hiding your own truth from yourself.
Why are we (especially as women) encouraged to dim our light? Why is demureness to the point of neurotic insecurity now our expected default?
I'm so disillusioned with the mixed messages that the fitness industry conveys and the time has come for me to endeavour to withdraw from the conflict I find in its hypocrisy.
You can value and appreciate your body even as you transform it.