"Doooon't do it," he said

I must deal with the fact that since I began going to school full-time while working full-time, all previously highly organized and concerted efforts to exercise have come to a drop dead halt... no gym, no treadmill, no hand-weights, no yoga, no pilates. This fact makes me feel crummy physically AND emotionally. Last night my honey-man soooo gently proffered the following: if things change and you don't like it, YOU MUST CHANGE TO ADJUST ACCORDINGLY TO THIS CHANGE IN YOUR LIFE and this is true, my friends. My health demands that I exercise regularly. I need exercise! I must have it to be happy!

Background info:
I come alive at night around the ten o'clock hour and if I don't hit the sack by 11:30pm-midnight, I may be up til 2am ~ My honey-man, on the other hand, turns into a pumpkin around 9pm... when this comatose wittle zombie state begins to set in (more like crash), I must be very careful to keep my giggles somewhat supressed as I witness the transformation - it can be very cute, but my pumpkin can get grumpy if provoked. It really is terribly cute, I think, unless I keep him up past 11pm. Anyhow, the man gets up EARLY. We're not talking a typical 6:45 am (heh-heh, that's when I usually get up, even though my alarm goes off well before 6:30 am). Try 4:30am or 5 am-ish!?! This don't jive with me = I am NOT a morning person. NOooo, this does NOT mean I'm a mega bitch from hell in the AM. I'm actually quite perky ONCE I LEAVE THE BED. I can lay there a good while reveling in Otis-kitty tummy fluff, fitfully stretching and pressing the snooze button, refusing to get out of bed for 30 minutes on average, but once I'm up? I'm up.

One wouldn't think so, but I'm totally capable of getting up before the crack of dawn. In the past as an undergrad, I worked a number of insane campus morning jobs for which I had to be at work by 4am and 5am. To successfully pull off the ungodly-hour-wake-up thing, the trick for me has always been to have a complete and total LACK OF ROUTINE; meaning I don't wanna hafta do a lot of stuff to get ready for the day. I just want to wake up, wash my face, brush my teeth, throw on some clothes, feed the boys 'n' my fishies, grab my stuff and a yogurt and go = 30 minutes tops.

Now that I have class most nights right after work until late, I don't get to go to the gym, nor do I have time to workout once I'm home. Because I don't go to the gym/workout at night, I no longer shower at night, plus I've got homework to do instead. So now I shower in the AM. No biggie, right? WRONG. This adds to my morning routine...I don't like it. And back to the issue of no exercise, because I don't get a chance to vent my frustrations from the day in the evening via any exercise, waking up is even HARDER. Having to shower in the morning helps, but man, I just don't want to add to my AM routine in any way shape or form...more often than not, I'll show up with my hair still wet! Note: I don't ever really "do" my hair. I have various hair clips and ties to put it up (while it's still wet), but that's about it. The ultimate realization is this: if I am to exercise at all, it's gunna hafta be IN THE MORNING.

ALLLLLL That having FINALLY been said...

My honey-man was gunna help me get my butt outta bed this AM so I could go to the gym and reclaim my higher metabolism that's deserted me since I began school. He was going to call me at home, which he did a lil' earlier than expected. So instead of bounding right out of bed immediately, I waited for my alarm to go off, cuddling Otis "just a lil' longer" while in a semi-still-asleep state. My alarm went off and I told myself," GET UP NOW AND GO KICK SOME BUMMY!" [yes, my inner voice said "bummy"] - I turned off the alarm, stretched, rotated my ankles outward and inward and back in reverse and I continued to cuddle Otis and fell right back to sleep, to later wake up at eight o'clock. Yeah. So, I threw on some clothes and a cap to hide my unwashed hair and ran off to work, quite late. I called my honey-man on the way to work and felt soooo horrible that I had to tell him that despite his oh-so-sweet and super-supportive wake up call, I had failed. I was bummed and he was bummed for me, that I was soooo bummed about it.

HERE'S the POINT of my telling this story: After that call to confess failure, he called me right back, but I had entered my neighborhood's crappy deadzone and didn't catch the call. Once I had decent reception again, my cell let me know I had a message...

"Hi baby, it's me. Doooooooon't do it. I'm calling to tell ya, dooooon't dooo it, hon. Don't beat yourself up - don't beat yourself up over this - life takes care of that for ya. It's okay..."

Have I mentioned that I totally love this man? Of course, I totally teared up - cuz that's exactly what I was doing and he called me on it. And of course, I called him right back, totally giggling and laughing, so grateful to him for the invaluable reality check.