I hate being sore. Actually, I really hate being sore. No, I really, really hate being sore. Three and a half months I have been working out now. Three and a half months I have been sore. I am truly miserable. I'm trying so hard to learn how to keep my house clean, actually cook for my family, and take care of myself. And I am, mostly. But not nearly as much as I really want to. It's crazy, for the first time ever, I really want to clean. But the pain, every time I move! I can barely even walk, I'm limping around the house. My house is actually cleaner than it has ever been, but I feel like it is so dirty. I haven't swept in two days. And actually, I didn't even sweep then. My "housekeeper" did. There is dog hair everywhere. It is completely grossing me out. But not enough to endure the excruciating pain that will come when I have to squat down to sweep the pile into the dust pan. Bending over to move clothes from the washing machine to the dryer or take them out to fold them has been agony.
The worst part is how freaking slow the scale is moving. Everyone keeps telling me how good I look, but I just can't see it. My clothes are looser, and I can wear things I haven't worn in a long time. But I feel so achy and lazy I just want to curl up in a ball and not move at all. And that makes me feel fat and gross. Ugh.
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