A promise she made to herself when she felt guilty for polishing off the remnants of a half-full tub of French Vanilla ice cream lying in the freezer since she bought it two weeks ago. She had restricted herself to one spoon a day to exercise control over her ridiculous dessert cravings that hit at ungodly hours. “I’m hitting the gym tomorrow, no excuses!”, she instructed herself, overcome with a sudden strong wave of determination.

Driving back home from office at 8 pm the next day, she was reminded about this episode that happened not more than 24 hours ago. She was supposed be sweating it out at the gym and here she was zooming past the street that led towards it. She was exhausted from the meetings, the negotiations, the explanations, the plannings and somewhat irritated by the incessant discussions over a hyped new fitness regimen that her skinny co-workers were so into. All this on an almost empty stomach for crying out loud! Almost empty because lunch was a dreadfully minuscule sandwich that had nothing but wilted lettuce and dreary discs of tomato between two shriveled glutenfree bread slices. Her stomach lurched at the sight of the obnoxious sandwich. “Rabbit food!” she mumbled to herself before biting a dry edge off. The sandwich stuck in her throat so she flushed it down with an entire glass of water. All she wanted to do was reach home, toss her bag in a corner, unhook and fling her bra away, sit on the couch with her feet up on the coffee table and binge watch FRIENDS while nibbling on a slice of deep dish barbecued chicken pizza with extra cheese she had ordered before leaving office, that was now waiting to be picked up at Domino’s.
“I’m hitting the gym tomorrow, no excuses!”, she told herself again, without giving up.

Photo credit: @nevergiveup_fr twitter account