When you live in the world of a bartender and usually call it a day at work around 3am, 7:30 is just a cruel time to be awake. I have been hauling my sorry soul out of bed at such an ungodly hour for bootcamp twice a week for a month and a half, in the name of toned abs and svelte thighs that maybe (dear God) might not touch someday. And when I am bleary eyed and cursing and trying to find a hair elastic, there is little that can comfort me.
And it was in just such a state that, this morning, the deepest self-appreciation hit: I reached into the fridge for the eggs I hard boiled the night before, and I thought to myself, "I have never felt like more of a champion than right now, not having to boil these eggs because I did it last night after last call before I went to bed, to give myself the gift of five extra minutes in bed. Jessica, you're a genius, and a good friend."