"Did you work out today? No, I forgot my pony tail holder."

This commercial is the story of my life these days. Seriously, I don't know what to do about the anti-exercise tailspin I am in.

Let me back up and give you some background knowledge here. In 2007, I had my high school reunion. In preparation for that occasion, and because of general self-hatred, I joined Weight Watchers and a gym. With really, really, really hard work, a 5 day per week workout routine, and a personal trainer, I lost 40 pounds in about a year. Since that time, I did a pretty good job of watching what I ate. I mean, I would definitely indulge on occasion, but I made generally healthy choices and always balanced out a splurge with a restriction later in the day. Although I didn't always work out 5 days per week after the initial weight loss, I did maintain about a 3-4 day per week average. My favorite activity was spin class, although I also did some moderate weight training and an occasional run. I had gym friends to chat with, knew the staff well, and generally felt like a member of the community there.

Fast forward to the last 6 months or so. Since the spring, I have been on a slow decline, exercise and diet-wise. At first, I slipped down from 4 days per week at the gym to 3, then to 2, then 1. Since late August, I haven't stepped inside my gym once. After all those years of keeping up my activity level, it is just GONE. I have also gotten exceedingly sloppy with my eating habits. Basically, I have been eating whatever the hell I feel like (i.e. every baked good that sits on the table in the teacher's lounge. Carrot cake - 'nuff said).

There are several reasons why I think I lost my mojo. Obviously infertility treatment is stressful, and that sucks the energy right out of me. Hormonal treatments can also cause fatigue. Losing hubby's mom this summer also posed its own set of difficulties. But, mostly, my desire to go to the gym after work has been replaced with my desire to blog, cuddle, and catch up on my DVR. I discussed this issue with my (wonderful and amazing) therapist and she actually gave me the blessing to ease up on myself and not feel so damned guilty. She says we all go through phases and that it is understandable considering the circumstances. However, since I am 1. female, 2. Jewish, and 3. a neurotic mess, that guilt piece is a constant static in the background of my day.

So far, I have not seen any weight gain, which is a blessing. But, I have noticed some serious flab where there once was muscle, low energy, and low interest in any kind of activity other than watching "The Walking Dead' and "2 Broke Girls." A close friend showed interest in joining my gym recently, and I am really hoping that meeting up with her for a weekend workout might be the motivation I need to get back in the swing of things.

I need a serious kick in the ass, and it needs to come quickly, or else the people in Aruba might mistake me for a beached whale next month.