Okay. I let myself wallow in sorrow and misery and guilt for about 24 hours altogether, perhaps 30 hours, and now it's time to get going again.
I heard my mind say, "It's what she would have wanted," and I laughed. It really is what she would want. Of all people, A. would NOT want us to sit around and wallow in sorrow and misery and guilt. She would want us to live our lives, be happy, be productive, and not make the mistakes she made or even the mistakes we had been making. She believed in living life to the fullest, even if she didn't know how to do it in a positive fashion.
I went to the gym this morning. Getting up at 4:40 was much easier today than it was on Wednesday. I did a 30-minute ride on the recumbent bicycle. I chose a hill workout pattern, level 3. I know, that's such a wussy level. But I got a good workout still. I was definitely sweating by the end. Tomorrow when I get off work I'll go to the gym and experiment on the different machines when I'm not in such a rush, and maybe I'll do it again on Sunday after church. I'm thinking that I'll alternate upper- and lower-body workouts every day after my cardio work. I can afford to spend 50 minutes every morning before I have to get home and shower and dress and dry my hair and get to work. So if I do 30 minutes on the bike or elliptical glider (which I'd love to try out, but they're all taken before I get there at 5--which means that even though the gym allegedly opens at 5, it must open a little earlier) and then spend 20 minutes on the machines, I can get a good workout in every day.
I got my Newport News bathing suit catalog in the mail yesterday. I was drooling over the bathing suits. They have a nice selection of halter bathing suits this year, and I look really good in halters. They play up my shoulders and bust beautifully. Normally I would be burying the bathing suit catalog in the bottom of the recycle bin, but this time it was fun to look at it. Of course, no matter how hard I'm working out between now and then and no matter how much weight I lose, bikinis are probably forever out of the question, between stretch marks and the possibility (probability?) of loose skin. But the one-pieces are still beautiful, and knowing that I'll be smaller than I've been even since I was a senior in high school by this summer makes thinking about bathing suits a positive pleasure.
I haven't written poetry in years, and I apologize for subjecting you to poetry over the last two days. I know I'm a horrible poet, which is why I don't write poetry anymore. But the feelings I had to get out had no other way to express themselves. I'll get a little more upbeat again; just give me a little more time.