This morning came and went with little notice. What I mean is, somehow I looked around at 9:45 and realized that I was not going to work out today. I have to get moving by 9 to make it all work, with childcare and breakfast and personal motivation.
The thing with exercising is, I'm easily discouraged. Also, I'm lazy. Bad combo. The problem is, this gut. Don't throw stuff at me- I'm talking about a small pouch of skin and fat that has a rounded shape, causing me to look something like 4 months pregnant, compared to my normal. 5 pounds, maybe. There are multiple problems here. I love eating. No, I mean, I LOVE it. I like eating better than reading.
The other problem is I don't like to leave the house. It's one thing to leave for food or thrift shopping. It's another thing entirely to get dressed and chase little people and squeeze them into outfits and hold them down whilst brushing their hair and find shoes and so on, just to fight them into the van, for the purpose of exercising. As in, pain. This doesn't need psychoanalysis, folks.
I have decided what I need is a treadmill. Inside my house. I can hear you all howling, "You'll just hang clothes on it!" Haters. The other possibility is dieting, which is such a funny thing to suggest.