Yeah, so it's 10:42pm as I sit down to write this. I have just gotten home after a nearly 12 hour day, following yesterday's 13 hour day, and tomorrow will likely be at least 10 hours, if I'm lucky. I've been running around the City in heels (not high ones) since we had a board meeting this evening, so my feet hurt. My choice and my fault, but still.
I was too tired this morning to get up and walk around the reservoir, like I should have, so I have now skipped two days of exercise already this week, meaning that I have to have to have to exercise for the next four days straight if I'm to keep on my exercise schedule in a scheme to revive my metabolism.
I had a granola bar for breakfast at 9am, a sandwich at 12:30pm, and a small glass of red wine at 7:45pm prior to a show. I still have to take my shot tonight, along with my other meds, oh, and eat dinner (which is heating up in the oven). And post something onto my blog since it's been three days.
Moments like these, I find it a little peculiar that this is the life I have chosen for myself, and I wonder a bit if it has contributed to my current health status, or at least (to be sure) has exacerbated it. I also wonder about my mental health status.
And yet, I just got back from watching an amazing, brilliant, dirty, sexy, witty work of art performed by incredible dancers and created by someone whom I regard as pretty much a genius. Furthermore, it was an invited dress, so I knew most of the people in the small audience, and also most of the people involved in making the show happen, on and off stage. To be part of an evening like this felt special, intimate and exciting, and like something that could, or would, only happen in a city like New York.
So what is a gal to do? Stick it out, I guess.