Being fat is difficult. Like, physically difficult. It’s noticeable when I need to reach something, or get up out of bed. Everything takes just a little extra effort. I miss enjoying what my body is capable of. I took it for granted. I never thought I’d ever get to this point.
In high school I loved to lift weights and to be able to lift more and more. I used to like running as well. Now every movement is a chore. I know logically, once I start doing things, they’ll get easier, but I can’t seem to get to the first hurdle to get the momentum moving.
I wish I’d been committed and consistent all this time. Even when I was in the best shape I’ve ever been in, I wasn’t super consistent. I was good at mind over matter and believing in myself. Now I can’t even find the mental strength to get started.
The Difference A Year Can Make 