2004
The D-Day of one of my family's more expensive trips - Paris, Munich, Venice and Monaco, among other stop offs, coincided on a series of shifts of mine at the salon, a high-tempo dance class I was leading at the gym, and a volunteer shift at the animal shelter cleaning out cages.
During that time, while I imagined the Eiffel Tower, gelato, dirndls and gambling, I fancied that I would have gone - who wouldn't? - and easily fell back into the pattern I knew so well.
This town, full of people who worked the checkout counter or out at Arasapha or at the hardware store, these were people earning more than me, holding down mortgages, with full-time families.
This was what I was trying to break into. A steady income, a stable life, a look to the future.
The routine had come naturally that when the vacation had been offered I had not taken time to reflect on how far I had come. It did not seem that long ago that I was crying in my room at my parents house, and some days still did I feel that vulnerable.
It was impossible now, living in this town, even while my family was away, to avoid that scrutiny lent to his crew. I could only writhe when people stared. I could only keep exercising to the bone.
It was by a mention in a newspaper that I found out about the Tough Guy Competition. Held in the UK, it was touted as the toughest race in the world. The kind of obstacles would make me scream.
Yet, whenever my motivation failed, when each race seemed like any other, when exercising at the gym which looked the same and so did I, this was something to shoot for.
It had always been my idea to shoot for something, come last, and work my way up. It was better than falling back. Nothing could injure me as much as my own self-esteem, and so I decided to save up for a trip - and in the meanwhile, begin a series of harder work outs and build my endurance.
I was vacuuming my rental when my mom rang, calling with all the stories she had to share on Europe. Of course I was jealous, and the production company had paid the bills. There was every memory to revisit.
Now, my younger brother was back; I would hear his sports car hoon down far off suburbs, and know somewhere a crowd of people were having their bar tabs paid, and entertainment for that night was on him.
I still had my dreams. I wanted to lose weight, I wanted to compete in the Tough Guy Competition; but I did want to move further away, I wanted a mortgage on a place, I wanted to have pets.
The time and effort towards exercise I surely felt I could put towards everything else. It had been my first motivator. If I could just let my guard down, I could balance a couple more things, and cross my fingers that everything could finally be good in my life, even if just once.