I Have Been Improving Myself and Frankly, the Results Are Disappointing

I have been making a genuine effort to improve myself, and I would now like to lodge a formal complaint about the results.

I have been dieting. I walk. I go to a strength class three times a week, where cheerful people encourage me to perform movements my body clearly regards as a personal betrayal. I am taking vitamin D, having B12 injections and presenting various internal organs for professional photography. Not to mention not leaving the house without a bit of makeup on! And yet, I do not appear to be improving.

I was under the impression that once I began doing all the right things, a newer and more efficient version of me would emerge. Like a butterfly from its very warm and safe, cocoon. I wasn’t expecting to wake up looking thirty-five, although I'll admit, I would have accepted it without complaint. I simply thought I might feel healthier, stronger and perhaps slightly less like I had been assembled from spare parts found behind a shed.

Instead, I remain tired. My muscles hurt in places I didn’t know contained muscles, and I am still producing enough mucus to qualify as a small industry that makes the damned stuff.

This doesn’t seem fair.

Improving yourself requires an enormous amount of work. First, you must stop eating everything that makes life worth living. Apparently, the foods that bring joy are precisely the ones attempting to kill you. Cake is dangerous. Bread is suspicious. Cheese is waiting for an opportunity. Even fruit has started receiving bad publicity because it contains sugar.

Eventually, all that remains is grilled skinless chicken (which I actually prefer lol), vegetables and the smug knowledge that somewhere, somebody is enjoying hot chips.

Then there is exercise.

People who enjoy exercise will tell you how wonderful it feels. They talk about endorphins, energy and the satisfaction of pushing their bodies. I assume these people are experiencing an entirely different activity from the one I’m doing.

When I exercise, my body doesn’t release endorphins. It releases a strongly worded internal memo asking management to explain what the hell is going on.

At strength class, I lift things, stretch things and attempt to balance while pretending this is all perfectly normal. The instructor says encouraging things like, “Just one more,” which is an interesting interpretation of the word “just.”

There is nothing “just” about one more squat when your thighs have already contacted a solicitor.

Still, I persist because this is what we are told to do. Eat properly. Exercise regularly. Take your vitamins. Drink water. Get enough sleep. Reduce stress.

The last instruction is particularly amusing because attempting to do all the others has now become a significant source of stress. Or it would be if I could feel stress. That is one benefit of brain damage. I no longer feel stress...

However, my life is slowly turning into a full-time maintenance program. There are tablets to remember, injections to attend, scans to book, appointments to keep, healthy food to prepare and exercises to perform. Apparently, getting healthier requires so much administration that I may need to employ a project manager. I guess as I am a Project Manager, I could do it - but I don't. It's like the plumber who never fixes anything at home...

Fortunately, so it's a well I have experience.

What I don’t have is any obvious evidence that the project is succeeding.

Where is the energy I was promised? Where is the glowing skin? Why haven’t I developed strong, sculpted arms? (even though I noticed this week the muscles on my arms were flexing...) I don’t need them to be spectacular. I would settle for arms capable of carrying the groceries inside without requiring a recovery period.

Perhaps improvement is happening quietly, somewhere beneath the surface. Maybe my cells are thriving and simply haven’t bothered to tell me. It is possible that my liver is delighted with recent developments?

I know these things take time. That is what everyone says when the results are disappointing.

“Give it time.”

I have given it time. I have also given it money, blood and sweat. I would simply like some indication that the system has received my application.

Until then, I will continue walking Sharpie, dieting, exercising and taking whatever vitamin I am apparently lacking this week. I will attend my appointments and make an effort to treat my body with the care and respect it deserves.

But if I don’t start feeling magnificent soon, I’m going back to cake. At least cake has always delivered what it promised.