My first session with the personal trainer was... hm. There are a lot of words that could describe it. If I thought on it too much, "embarrassing" would rate pretty high. Fortunately or unfortunately, it was what I expected and proved that I *need* to do this and should've done it a long time ago. I am appallingly, unhealthily, out of shape.

I didn't even last the whole hour. I got dizzy, had to sit down, and my trainer brought me a fruit punch, which I then spilled on the floor. At least I didn't vomit. I wanted to vomit.

It can only get better, right? It was the hopping that did me in. I've never been good at hopping.

So... after the "training," or the Christy body coddling, Jer and I bought me a duffel bag and towels. I am removing all barriers to the workout process, all excuses will be negated. Or at least, minimized. I'll be meeting with my trainer twice a week for the next five weeks. It's all set up, I just have to do it.

I can make grand promises to myself, but the truth of it is, I have to take it day by day. I have to change my lifestyle or it won't ever get better. I need to think about the foods I put in my mouth and set aside time for exercise. My priorities need to shift. So there you go. That's what's going on in my head. I've got to figure out how to live differently, and fight the urge to self-sabotage.

Day by day.