My Kind Of Punishment

Yesterday, I mentioned that I did not meet one of the goals that I set for myself a couple months back. I really should have been finished with my daughter's bedroom by this point, but if I'm being completely honest here, I kept putting it off. I procrastinate to the point where I will end up having to rush things at times to get them done, if I even complete them at all. I was not always like this. In fact, years ago, I always finished things right away. As soon as I could think of a project, it was complete. Things changed right after my lung collapsed in 2001. I was asleep in my bed when it happened, but woke to the most terrible pain in my chest. My parents thought I was trying to get out of baby-sitting by complaining about my chest. In fact, spontaneous pneumothorax (collapsed lung) is most prevalent in obese 40+ men that smoke. I was 17, on the cross-country running team, and a non-smoker. How could anything be wrong with me?

Long story short, the recovery was not an easy process. After spending a week in the hospital, I still had to do some physical therapy for my lung when I went home. This was the first time that I did not complete a task. It was so painful to blow into the little contraption that was supposed to strengthen my lung back up, and I just avoided the pain rather than meet it head on. This translated into me quitting the soccer team (which I was pretty dang good at, btw), slacking off in school, and never participating in another sport again.

I got married in 2006, and from that point on, I started to put on a little weight. I had always been a bean pole because I was an active person, but after my wedding, I quit my job and lazed around on the couch allllll day. (Mind you, I didn't quit my job because I was married, but rather, the work environment was terrible). My family started telling me that I looked much healthier from the added weight, which really hurt me a lot. How could people say that I looked "healthy" when I knew I was at my unhealthiest? I let that get to me a bit, but I still would not exercise for fear of the pain. My lung would start burning at the slightest of exertion. I didn't need to unnecessarily force the pain to show up again, so exercise was out of my life.

Fast-forward four years. My daughter started walking when she was about ten months old. I started dropping weight, and the pain did not surface, because my activity level changed so gradually. Chasing after a toddler really helped me fit back into pre-pregnancy clothes! Maybe it was also a result of the breastfeeding. I'm not sure. I still did not want to exercise. I am active enough to get by, but that's my limit. In fact, I am so laid-back that I didn't force myself to finish my daughter's room on time to meet my goal.

Now, I have decided that as punishment for my procrastinating tendencies (and another project left unfinished) I am going to exercise again. Yes, you read that right. I am going to push past the burn in my lungs and I am going to get fit. I will incorporate little pieces of my journey on this blog to hold myself accountable. If I go a week without mentioning exercise, I want for you to jump all over my case. Yell at me IN CAPS, curse at me, withhold sex {ok, that's really for Handsome Husband}, just please don't let me slack off this time around.

Healthy habits do start at home, and I want to be a shining example to my daughter of healthy habits. I want for her to exercise, eat healthy foods, and to be mindful of what goes on and in her body. The best way for me to teach this to her is by example.

I hope that in some way, my kind of punishment will benefit my daughter's life.

Because let's face it:

Exercise sucks.