This is the longest I've gone without formal exercise in probably about three years. The inactivity is getting both harder and easier, if that makes sense. Harder because every day that goes by is another day to obsess about how fat and disgusting I must be getting. Easier because every day is another day that proves I can indeed function without exercise. The past week has been pretty rough in terms of my anxiety and grossness feeling, but I survived. I think the forced break might be easier to deal with next week, since I'm going home for Thanksgiving and my schedule will be messed up anyway.
At the risk of sounding neurotic and numbers-obsessed (who, me???), my weight has shot up about 2-3 pounds, which is not good for my mental health. I'm inclined to think it must be bloating/water retention/something to do with the Naproxen I've been on, since the gain happened instantly the day after I started taking the pills. Even though I have to convince myself of it sometimes, I DO know that weight gain doesn't happen magically and I'm trying to be rational about it. Still, it messes with my head. I do not appreciate unanticipated bodily changes. Take note, Body.
It never fails to surprise me that I still have an appetite, even when staying essentially sedentary. Yesterday and today, I literally sat with my butt glued to my desk chair ALL DAY. Not fun. I wasn't planning to restrict, but felt lazy and disgusting and couldn't imagine ever wanting to eat. Then, lo and behold, my stomach started making timid growly sounds and my head started getting that swimmy feeling and almost before I knew it, I was hungry. Huh. I guess I am alive.
Finally, for something unrelated to food or exercise: When S came to pick me up last night, I was feeling fat and crappy and not in the mood to go out. Then I opened the car door and, lying across the passenger side seat, were six pink roses. Boy done good.