I've been working out for two weeks and I'm still not skinny

I've been working out for a solid two weeks and I'm still not skinny. This is crap.

It's safe to say that while I'm patient in some arenas, when it comes to self-improvement, I want what I want yesterday. And yesterday, I wanted to be skinny.

While I haven't experienced quarantine in the same way other people have, my access to regular life has still been limited. Each day, I got up and went to work, and then went home. When my personal sands of time shifted to my complete control, I decided to try and fill it with as many activities as possible, including getting in shape.

Trying to chisel out some abs is the worst. Some of the exercises aren't so bad, but others are just trash. Do you know there's one called the dead bug? Dead. Bug. Dead bugs are just that; dead. They don't hold up an arm and a leg straight in the air and the rotate back and forth like a cricket trying to flip over. Actually, that's what they should call it — a cricket on its back. Or just "help me." Either of those names depict that motion better than a dead bug, because I swear if dead bugs are still mobile after passing over the rainbow bridge, I'm probably never going to sleep again as I've killed a lot of spiders that I thought would never tap dance through my house again ...

The raised leg is probably one of my least-favorite exercises. Laying down — albeit it on top of my bath mat because I couldn't find my yoga mat and they were all sold out on Amazon — I have to raise my legs straight in the air, 90 degrees, while keeping my abdominals tight without letting my feet touch the floor. The first few times aren't so bad, but after I hit the 10th repetition, I'm usually yelling out karate-esque noises. Fun fact: when you leave your acoustic Fender guitar leaning against the TV stand and you caterwaul tunelessly without shame in executing a raised leg exercise, that shriek generates quite a melodic tune through the sound hole.

Yes, I'm a self-professed control freak. Many of the things I do have an anticipated result. If I study sign language, I can communicate better. If I listen to my French tapes more, I can better understand the foreign films I watch. If I plant more than 20 different flowers, vegetables and herbs, I know that they will grow — because they have.

So if I take three different virtual classes each day, why am I not skinny yet?! Yeah, yeah, patience and all that crap. Okay, okay, so I have seen some changes in my body. My upper abdomen is smaller and firmer, my thighs are more toned and my bum has climbed up my body. But ... I haven't lost the weight I've wanted to yet.

In the meantime, I've paid attention to some other details about myself.

When I brush my teeth, I never just brush my teeth. For whatever reason, I find myself performing old ballet moves and routines as I scrub my back molars.

I genuinely enjoy baking and cooking new desserts and dishes. Following recipes and trying to channel my Papa's "feel" for cooking late into night has brought me tremendous joy.

I still cry every time I watch City of Angels.

I laugh before I tell the punchline of a joke or story. Oftentimes, I'm cackling as I try to get the words out. Similarly, when I recall a highly-emotional moment, I've been known to cry as the emotional phrases try to mambo out of my mouth.

When I'm anxious or sad, I always turn on Yo-Yo Ma playing Bach: Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major, Prélude. I find a calm like no other, every time.

I've also learned that I am insanely stubborn and refuse to give up, so even though the dial on the scale hasn't plummeted backward, I'm not going to stop just yet. So even though I hate it, I'm going to keep moving like a "dead bug" and screaming into my guitar all the while.