Later today I'll be going to my gym to start working with a personal trainer. Simply put, I've gained a lot of weight.
Two years ago I was in probably the best shape of my life, including high school and college -- the difference being that in high school and college, I drank like a fish (this statement may come as a surprise to my MFA brethren, but the reality is that, outside of Enders Island, I pick my spots and only get hammered once or twice a year). In 2008 I was working with personal trainers, began eating better and it showed. I lost 40 pounds and kept it off for awhile.
But things have changed. The major damage started in April when I began a streak of working 50 consecutive days. I was exhausted when I got home, too exhausted to make it to the gym. After the streak ended, I had more time to go to the gym, and I did. But as things slowed down at work, the Census began laying people off. This meant every other day we'd either have cake or go out of lunch, neither of which is good for the waistline.
So now I'm in bad shape; I'm scared to even step on the scale again, worried that the full 40 pounds are back.
These are not excuses. I should've fought through it and said no to bad food and inactivity. But I can't change the past. I'm back where I started and I hate myself for that. All I can do now is take out my anger at the gym.