Who cares?

Some days I just don't care.

I don't care what I look like.

I don't care about my hair. Sometimes I don't even brush it - isn't that what pony tails are for?

And makeup? What's that?

Sometimes I like to lounge around in my pjs. Living the life. Sucking back coffee. Reading a book. Watching The Walking Dead, like a big bad zombie myself.

Some days I don't want to even leave the house cause lazing around is just so, so, so sweet.

Like today.

BUT, most days I care. I want to look sassified and stuff, just like you. I like dress myself up, "paint my face" and chuck on some jewelry. It's nice to have a purpose and a place to go.

Why am I writing this? I have no idea. My fingers are just typing and I'm just watching them go.

I'm feeling great. Blood work has been great. Energy is great. Brain is ready to get back in action. Soon!

I've signed up for the Credit Union Atlantic Lung Run, which is in a couple of weeks. I have Bambi legs, the muscles of a toddler...should be interesting. I know I can always walk these events, but I dream of running. My legs pumping, my heart beating strong, listening to some funky beat in my head.

In my imagination I can run like I did as a teenager. I could run. Fast.

We'll see how my training goes!

 And on those days, I will care. About exercise. About getting stronger. About my beautiful chunkers allowing me to do it.

But not one bit about my hair and makeup. Nor my style choices. Cool?