My Husband has been on a get fit kick since before Christmas. He asked me to plan a workout for him and I did. I also bought him new running shoes, gym clothes that have dri-fit so he wouldn't get cold in sweat-soaked cotton. He's doing really well. Awesome well. He's running 5K now on the treadmill, pushing his weights. He does this five days a week. He's getting slimmer, and getting really tones. He's so proud of himself, it's awesome to see him excited about the gym.
I'm so damned jealous I could spit.
I'm an awful person! I'm also very supportive and want him to succeed. I also want some success. I want to have it come easy. He says it hurts, I know, I know it hurts. He says it's exhausting, hell I know that too. But damn him and his male metabolism with it's ultra-quick results. I just want to scream FUCK!
So while I choke on my green and eat my turkey breast and abstain from carbs of all kind, and the grumpy angriness begins to settle in - even though I'm not even having wild cravings like I did the last time, nope, not even - I'm still feeling annoyed. I know on one level it's the competitiveness I'm struggling with, and I want to beat him. Beat him at...what exactly? Getting fit?
I really am fucking nuts.
But I know I can do a better 5K time than he can. He'll not ever do a better time than me and if he does, I'm slipping quarters into the soles of his shoes. NO I'm Not...no. no. *sigh*
I'm so mad at myself, annoyed at him and, well...Damn Damn Damn!!!
He's getting really nice abs and hard arms though so there's a bonus to all of this.