verbicide | talking to myself in public, dodging glances on the train

Dear Self,

Yes. You had a kickass workout. And yes, you were so sweaty and gross and tired, you just wanted to go home and collapse with a bucket of fried chicken. But, you did not. You did not stop at Taco Bell for tacos, even though that sounded pretty fucking good and effortless to boot.

You even went to the goddamn grocery store and bought ingredients for a quick stir-fry dinner for tonight and the makings for Black Bean Chilaquiles for tomorrow night, which you will prep tonight, because there's very limited patience and energy after a hard swim.

This is all Good.

However, the groceries aren't going to unpack themselves on the counter and that dinner isn't going to make itself. So stop sodding gaping at the Internet and get on with it. Your friends will still be here when you're done.

Kisses,

Your Hungry Body