Miss Independent asks for help

I finally asked for help at the gym. After about 10 weeks, mind you, of trying to convince myself I knew what I was doing, I took the machine tour, only to find out I had been doing back and chest machines when I thought I had been doing arm machines. No wonder my neck and shoulders hurt so damn bad! And I thought the arm workout machines were pretty much the same thing as the others, so I skipped them entirely. So much for Michelle Obama arms this summer!

I hate asking for help. With anything. I have to be all 'Miss Independent'. Apparently I've always been that way. I can be stubborn, self-righteous and controlling. All with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. This often works against me. Pride goeth before my fall all the time. "I can eat this cake if I want to, because no one can tell me I can't, because I am my own person and I'll show you!", and so on.

I am not my own best advisor. Self-soothing or rewarding with sugar and starch is not just a monkey, it's a big ugly baboon with a gross red butt. My excuses of being too tired, too hot, blah blah blah to exercise are as melodiously hypnotic as a Brahms lullaby. Oh my gosh, could it be... I am human? I need help? I need support? I can't do it myself?

So many friends (and special props to Kate), have helped me get this far, and I even tho I may resist, I appreciate it more than you will ever know. Thank you. I love you all. Dammit.