I'm a goldfish, not an elephant

As a human being, I have many faults. One of them is a glaringly embarrassing example of why I have such a hard time sticking to a healthy diet plan or exercise routine. Actually, it's the root of a lot of my problems -- I don't follow through.

Because sometimes I honestly don't remember. And when I do remember, apathy sets in. "Well, I already forgot to do X thing when I said I would do it, so why try now?" It's pretty bad.

Case in point: I started writing this post three days ago, then saved it to my drafts to finish and publish later that evening. Clearly that didn't happen. Whoops.

I'm one of those people who thinks grabbing coffee with an old friend sometime is a wonderful idea, but then I forget to set a time and place with them so coffee goes by the wayside. I see a delicious looking recipe on Pinterest and make a mental note to get the ingredients to make it, but by the end of the day that mental note is long gone. I intend on finally cracking open that book I've been meaning to read on late nights when Chris is working, but then I remember that I really wanted to finish that episode of "Bones" I started the other day. (I read the intro and first chapter of the book in question over a month ago. I still haven't started the second chapter.)

I don't know whether it's a product of a terrible memory or a lack of willpower and self control, but feel like a failure when I become someone who doesn't fulfill her promises, both to other people and to myself. I hate it. I absolutely HATE that I do this. And I don't know how to fix it.

This is why I can't get back into reading or keep a food journal or take a brisk walk every day or pay bills on time ... or post regularly scheduled bog updates. Because my body and my brain don't get along.

Will a doctor's visit really force me to change my eating and exercise habits, or will I brush off (or forget) all the good advice the minute I walk out the door? This is a legitimate fear of mine. So much so that I'm starting to wonder if I have some sort of disorder. I could call it Whateveritis or Stage IV Meh.

Or maybe I'm totally overreacting and this is just a by-product of being someone who was born in 1990. People my age read and write and talk about feelings like this all the time, so maybe I shouldn't beat myself up about it. Either that, or the internet is just a big ol' garbage dump full of dumb personal essays written by whiny kids in their 20's and I should stop reading anything that has the word "Millennial" in it. (Actually, everyone should stop doing that.)

When I started this post (three days ago, remember?), I had intended on finishing up with some watered down resolution to start trying to wake up earlier to fit in a little morning exercise and get a better start to my day. But it's almost the weekend and I'm frustrated with myself, and even I didn't believe the words I had written, so there's no chance you guys would either. Let's just chalk this week up to, "Brooke tries really hard to not be a flighty, irresponsible person, but her plans usually don't go very well."

By the way: I FINALLY got an appointment with a new doctor to talk about my weight. It's set for next Thursday morning. Prayers, good vibes, and nice thoughts are appreciated!

P.S. Sorry about all the parenthetical statements in this blog. I know I overuse them. That doesn't mean I'm gonna stop doing it, though!

P.P.S. Did you get the joke in my post title?? Yeah, I'm pretty hilarious. *buffs fingernails on shirt*