The consummate transformation problem: the canyon between socially acceptable mediocrity and perfection by way of sweat and searing pain; while nutrition represents the single strand of fishing twine we’re all trying to cross on at the same time that seems to sway violently every time a mouse a million feet below sighs too deeply. The more frustrated you get, the closer the river water below appears and the more like a pillow you imagine it will feel.
If you keep inching along the line, you’ll learn the patterns of the wind and sway with them. You’ll eventually go from inching along to a full sprint. But if you jump off the second you get a little queasy, you’ll just be a fat dude floating in a river to who knows where.
I know where. If you don’t fix it, you’ll always feel mediocre and you’ll always hate it. Your weight will always be a little wound on the top of your mouth that you can’t help but play with. It’s going to be the sibling bully holding you by the forehead while you swing wildly and desperately with your cheeto-dusted fists.
So every time you jump into that river, it’s like an Escher drawing that will flow right back to the same piece of fishing line you dove off of before. You might as well just learn how to walk the line and see what’s on the other side instead of guessing what’s over there.