The Exercise Excuse

It hit me today like a ton of bricks.

I have been using exercise as an excuse to eat. Well, to eat MORE than I should. And to eat too much of a few things I shouldn't.

And all of a sudden I'm at this point where I resent having to wake up and do the exercise. Or I resent having to spend so much time exercising.

As if it's Exercise's fault.

When I'm "mad" at Exercise, I skip it. In my head, that makes sense. Like I'm really teaching Exercise a lesson.

"Take that! You make me wake up early and dedicate half of my waking free hours to you. To prove to you that you are a jerk, I'm just not going to visit you today. Ha! That will teach you to mess with me!"

Exercise itself could give a tinker's damn whether I visit or not. You know it. I know it. Exercise knows it.

In the meantime, Jelly Bellies and Cheese Nips are high-fiving each other in the pantry. Venison Sticks and Whip Cream In a Can are partying down in the fridge.  "We did it! She's paying attention to us again and she's pissed off at that dope Exercise. We couldn't have planned this better if we tried! He takes the fall. We get the love. It's perfect!"

I'm the only one that pays for eating badly and for not exercising. Me.

Today's 4.5 miles on the treadmill isn't going to solve much, but it's done.