I woke up this morning later than usual. Since getting my new job a few weeks ago, I changed my phone’s alarm to only go off at 5 am on weekdays. Therefore, I slept in today, and I allowed myself to sleep in today.
Allowed? You allowed yourself to sleep in today? Who allows themselves to sleep in?
I do, voice in my head. After today, though, I’m questioning this decision.
So you’re questioning yourself now?
I am. It’s called experimentation. I’m a man of routine. I wake up every morning at 5 am, make some coffee, and start writing. Then I make breakfast, meditate, study some flashcards in Anki, and then go to work. During weekends, the only thing that changes is that I don’t have to go to work.
I’ve developed this rhythm. Each action flows into the others, and I create this harmony to my days that makes whatever it is I’m trying to do easier to do. If not easier, more pleasurable to do. Then usually after work, I start working out.
No you don’t.
Okay, fine, I go to bed and start watching some television while also gorging my mouth with some food.
Then I start to work out. After I finish, I make my protein shake, drink that, then I take a shower, change, and then start dinner. By this time it’s around 7 or 8 pm. I clean up, brush and floss my teeth, go to bed, and start reading for about 30 minutes. Then I play some music and think about what I’m going to write on my blog. Once I write it — either in Scrivener or Byword — I check the Markdown in Marked 2, re-read the entry a few times, correcting any typos, and then I post it. I also save it in Day One because I do consider these entries personal enough to include in my journal. Then I go to sleep.
That sounds like a very boring life. You need to go out, meet a girl, have some fun.
I know you’re right, except that I am having fun. I’m improving myself every day, even though I have this pretty standard daily routine, and seeing the improvements feel awesome.
Is that where the title of this entry comes in?
That’s right, voice in my head. I like looking at myself in the mirror before, during, and after every workout. Sometimes I don’t like what I see, but I like doing it anyway. Years ago, when I weighed over 230 lbs, I took pictures of myself without my shirt on. Compared to how I look today, it looked like I wore some sort of fat suit back then. I look nothing like I did back then.
You’ve kicked my ass many, many times.
Yes, I have, but you still won’t shut up sometimes.
And I never will. You best recognize.
Yeah, yeah. Anyways, the mirror doesn’t lie. It reflects everything that’s put in front of it with zero distortion. My scale has told me I’m 10 lbs heavier than I was a few months ago, and I can see a few places where those places could be. Some of it is fat, but a lot of it is muscle.
But some of it is not.
I know. I don’t look like I wish I do, and I know how vain and petty that may sound.
And very shallow. Are you really doing this just to look good in front of a mirror?
No, not really, but it is a contributing factor. My dad died young because he didn’t take care of himself. He struggled with diabetes for most of the time I knew him, and I used to be haunted by all the images of him in the hospital, tubes coming out of everywhere, his body unaware of anyone’s presence, including my own. I don’t want to end up like him. I want to be healthy. I want to live a long life. And I want to look good. I used to joke with a friend in college that I wanted to look like a Greek god, my body sculpted to perfection. Funny thing is, I used to believe back then that I could look like that, if only I worked hard enough.
No, not yet, voice in my head. But I know I can. If only I work hard enough I can accomplish anything.
That’s what they all say. Truth is, not many people like working. They love daydreaming more. They love thinking that one day everything will turn out great for them. They’ll be rich, they’ll look great naked, and they’ll be with someone hot and accepting. They believe they deserve a fantastic future, but no one realizes how much work is required to get that.
It’ll help if you were more supportive.
You do not need me to be more supportive. Hell, you need me to be an asshole residing in your head because if I wasn’t, you wouldn’t do anything. You would be content with mediocrity and bullshit. You need me to discipline you, to keep pushing you to be better because nobody else will, human.
So you’re saying I should thank you for everything?
Not in so many words.
Even though we have our differences, I do appreciate everything you’ve done for me. If you had your way, I would probably weigh over 300 lbs, still be living with my mom, have no job, and have nothing worth being proud about. Hell, I might even be dead.
You’re very welcome. Step in front of the mirror.
Just do it.
Okay. Wow. Damn I look good.
Yeah you do, you sexy beast.