This past three-day weekend, I got zero work done. I’m sure I’m not alone in this no-productivity boat when I say this, but the temptation to relax and just have some fun was too great. I had unread e-mails sitting in my inbox, projects that were being neglected, papers unwritten, and phone calls unreturned – but I just couldn’t bring myself to care. Bahh, I’ll do it all on Tuesday, I told myself. And before I could dwell on my decision for too long and let the guilt sink in, I scuttled off to social event after social event, double-fisting beers and chowing down on burnt Bratwursts. Oh yeah, and last night? I had animal crackers for dinner. With a side of half of a chocolate bar.

This is the definition of relaxing.

Some of you fitness zealots may be sitting there at your computers with your mouths agape, sheer horror written all over your faces. I might as well have committed murder what with all my blasphemous behavior, no? How irresponsible of me to allow myself to be lazy, imbibe liberally, and consume a meal with no protein. (What about all my gainz, you guyz?!) Yes, I can understand the sentiment; I would have thought the same thing just a few years ago. The control freak in me would have never allowed myself to indulge in any sort of capacity.

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You want more of it. You envy those who appear to possess more than you do. You hope that if you stare at inspirational photos long enough, that of others will seep through your skin and embody you whole.

Willpower.

You curse yourself as you fall for temptation, as you’re lured away from work by procrastination, as you’re once more a victim of your addictions.

This is the last time, you say. I’ll try harder tomorrow, you promise to yourself. Again.

But it just doesn’t work that way.

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