Jesus, almost 2 weeks since I worked out. Admittedly, I've been flailing all over the place in the last 5 weeks or so.
Getting used to living alone for the first time in 12 years, right after the Mrs headed back stateside I somehow tweaked something in my back, last week my wrist was all jacked up - as an aside, the worst thing about getting older is waking up with injuries you didn't go to bed with... how the fuck does that happen? Honestly? - and while those suck as reasons for not getting PT in, they were enough of an excuse, apparently. Blah.
And the food? Jesus. I've been a junk food machine the last month or so. I believe the phrase is "eating emotionally." What a delightful little girl I've turned out to be.
Today's probably the first day in about two weeks where I haven't thrown any junk food down my gullet, so kudos to me for stopping being a fat bastard. You know, it's really, actually quite easy - just don't buy the junk. Duh. Don't bring it home. You won't eat it. And you'll stop blowing money on crap as a bonus.
Today - 15 minutes of some shadowboxing and footwork, just to knock some of the rust off. A round of isometrics. Some shoulder dislocates/face pulls. Gonna get back to moving some weight around tomorrow.