I hate my life.
My job. My personal life. My body. Instead of sitting around being bitter about these things, I decided to do something about it.
My job...I'm currently shopping for a new one. It's not that I don't like being a nurse, I like nursing. I hate the floor I work on. I work with a bunch of girls who, it would appear, never left high school, and a manager who seems to enjoy being Big Man on Campus. I've seen the pictures of him as a teenager. A gangly, uber-dork of a teenager. I suspect that being BMOC later in life, for him, is probably a pretty sweet deal. At any rate, I'm looking at other floors to transfer to. Stat.
My Personal Life...that is still working itself out. My boyfriend (who I was sure was The One) and I broke up. The reasons depend on who you ask. There's always three sides to every story: mine, his, and the truth. When the dust settles, I think it can be confirmed that it was a misunderstanding that blew up to epic proportions...but the damage is done. I still love him, but I'm sure I'll get over it. I try not to obsess over my romantic life (or lack thereof). If it happens, it happens. If not, I'll just take another trip to the Caribbean.
My body...I've never been horribly happy with my body. When I was a kid, I was always tiny, which is why I was the favorite target for bullies. Before I entered high school, I was always a slight 88lbs, 4-foot nothing. Hell, I remember apologizing to the school nurse when I finally broke 100lbs. When I hit high school, nothing really improved in the bully department. Going to lunch was a painful experience as no one wanted to sit by me for a various number of reasons: they didn't want to incur the wrath of said bully, my family didn't have the money or influence it took to hang out with the cool crowd, I wasn't nerdy enough to hang out with the Nerd Herd, not athletic and outgoing to hang out with the jocks, and I wasn't having sex and drinking to hang out with the "Scuzzies", and the band nerds (which belonged in) didn't have their own clique. No, I usually skipped lunch and holed up in the library during lunch period. Instead of food, I ate books. I'm fairly confident that my record for most books checked out in that library still stands to this day.
Toss that in with the fact that I skipped breakfast, it's safe to say my crappy eating habits formed early. I'd skip meals, then have a big meal that probably wasn't well balanced. It doesn't help that I work nights and maintain an odd schedule anyway.
Now, I'm reaping the rewards. I'm the biggest I've ever been. Joints hurt. I can't run around the house, much less around a track field. I don't feel very attractive. Let's face it, I'm no spring chicken, and my family has a pretty solid history of heart disease and diabetes. For now, my blood sugar is normal, my blood pressure is on the low side (unless I'm pissed about something), and my heart is strong.
Time to head things off at the pass.
A few coworkers mentioned that they did this extreme workout regimen. I don't make decisions lightly, so I researched this said regimen. Overall, positive reviews. A guy-friend and fellow Husker fan swears by it, and he's uber-hot (but too young for me, so don't even suggest it). So, I decided to bite the bullet and get the P90X program. Guaranteed to kick my ass in 90 days. I like structure. I like routine. I like shit spelled out to me. This sounds right up my alley.
The kit should arrive by Friday. Meanwhile, I must prepare.