Brought To You By the Letter “Nope” and the Number “Not Gonna Happen.”

I’ve been going strong for the last couple weeks now: on point with the cardio, feeling strong and eating well. I’ve even noticed a difference in the shape of my body when I look in the mirror.

So imagine my surprise when today was all “I laugh at your happy and stomp all over it. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.”

Thanks, Monday.

Nothing really bad happened, but emotionally and energetically the good vibes just weren’t there. I spent the better portion of the day cranky because the world insists on being populated with people. Ugh.

Instead of having one cheat meal this week, I’m now up to… three? We’re going to go with three cheat meals. Since Friday. I skipped Kempo class tonight because standing up—let alone being active for an hour—just seemed like more than I could handle.

Toby illustrates my overwhelming desire to hide in a corner today.

But you know what? This is one day. One. So yeah, maybe my eating hasn’t been as on point the last few days as I’d like. That doesn’t negate the fact that I ran 1.75 miles, walked 1.25 miles, then hiked 2.3 miles on Saturday.

Look at me go. I do believe that’s called killin’ it.

Tomorrow is a new day, and a new chance to get back on track and make choices that support my goals. Tonight is a new opportunity to embrace the fact that I am, in fact, human.

I make mistakes, I make questionable choices. I dust myself off, I move on. It’s called self-acceptance. It’s called self-forgiveness.

And not going to Kempo when my body is screaming for a break? That’s called self-care. That’s called listening to my body and giving it what it needs. This way, when the two hours of Kempo come around on Wednesday, I’ll be ready.

And possibly I will have digested that gigantic turkey sub by then.

Fingers crossed.