I get that I have to do it forever. I do.
I get that it’s not like, I work out for a few months and then I’m done, and I look better and it’s all over and yay! let’s go shopping! I have totally accepted that I have to work out for the rest of my life if I want to look better and I’m OK with that. I’ve even accepted that I will never look the way I want if I don’t eat diet food. I remain skeptical of my ability to do this with any kind of reliability, despite my intense desire to do it, but I accept it as a reality for me, I really do.
I also accept that this is the stupidest of stupid things to be concerned with, and hate that I care (so much) about this, or that it bothers me (so much). But nevertheless, here we are. I live in Los Angeles, and we have reached that point in the year where it’s so freaking hot that everybody is wearing tank tops and this is what my arms look like.
Well, Hello there, Betty!
Uggh. Six months with Travis for this?
UPDATE: Here is just the *last* part of a typical workout with Travis, not even the hardest part. This is why I am frustrated.