Happy Groundhog Day! I Ran From My Shadow, Too!

Lately, my clothes have been tight.  Uncomfortable. Unflattering.  I mean, I can still wear them.  I haven’t gotten THAT far off-track, but, they tell me that I am not currently in possession of my desired physique. 

I do not own a scale.  Not that I’m against them, but I just haven’t ever felt the necessity to own one.  My clothes and the mirror (and my husband – he is brutally honest) are what I personally use to keep track of my body composition fluctuations.

Well, when I was home at Christmas, I stepped on my parents’ scale.  Just out of curiosity.  An’ it weren’t pretty.  I was about 10 pounds heavier than where I like to be when I’m feeling and looking my best.  It was no surprise, really, but disconcerting, nonetheless.

With today being Groundhog Day, it reminded me that I’ve been acting like a scared groundhog.  At the end of December, I curiously and tentatively stepped on the scale (the groundhog pokes his sleepy head out of his hole), I glanced at the digital read-out in shock and quickly jumped off (he sees his shadow looming and scrambles back into his burrow) and I continued my unhelpful behavior  for, roughly, six more weeks – too reluctant to make a commitment just yet to get the body composition changes that I need and want (the skittish groundhog hides out underground for six more weeks thinking he’s better off delaying the inevitable end of his hibernation).

Well, I’ve had it!  I’m sick of running away from hard work and discipline.  I’m sick of hibernating and postponing my day of reckoning.  The time has come to stop mindlessly stuffing my face and to become more consistent with my workouts.

It’s time to start casting shadows of a different kind:



If this is what 6 more weeks of winter looks like in Vegas,
then I'll take it!



Just had to throw this one in:  Those are our shadows being cast
from no other light than the bright moon!


What shadows are you going to cast this year???

The Good, the Bad and the Gooey

It was a small, seemingly harmless little package, caringly left on the doorstep with good, friendly intentions.  Little did I realize that the moment I brought it inside and set it down on the kitchen counter, it would morph into an insidious, evil temptation that became the very bane of my heretofore stoic self-discipline that day.

What could I possibly be talking about?  The gooey, cinnamon-y, yummy monkey bread that my friend left for me and family to say hello and that she was thinking of me.  Yeah, some friend!

I had done well that whole day.  Healthy, balanced meals with good portion control.  Plenty of fruits and veggies.  The only between-meal snack I allowed myself was a low-cal protein shake.  I’d worked out that morning.  I felt good, not even hungry.  Even when I realized that a potential dietary land mine had been left on the front porch, I picked it up and casually thought that I might actually take a nibble and then throw the rest out.  Then R caught a look at it and was interested.  “What’s that?  Can I try some?”  I thought, “why not?  Then I’ll throw it out.”  Then the cream cheese frosting on the counter caught her other eye.  “Can I put frosting on it?”  Wow, this child really is mine.  I took a double-take at the frosting container.  Why in the world is that just sitting there on the counter?  Oh yeah, earlier Z had been dragging cans and boxes out of the pantry for fun and I hadn’t had a chance to put them all away yet.  And that tub o’ frosting just happened to still be perched right there in the most horribly relevant spot on the counter:  right next to the newly acquired, odious monkey bread. 

K walked past at that very moment and immediately perked up as he realized what direction the conversation was heading:  straight into Splurgeville!  He whipped off the foil lining on the frosting can while I fumbled with the twist tie in my haste to open the monkey bread baggie.  Then the spackling commenced.  No, we didn’t just daintily add dollops of smooth, delightful frosting…we downright smeared that gooey, sticky, sweet decadence upon the chewy, moist, yeasty cinnamon goodness of the bread. 

Delightful…just utterly delectable.  Do I regret it?  Well, of course, duh.  But, honestly, not much.  I’m already over it.  I was over it the moment I licked my last finger clean.  Today I got up and started off with a great breakfast, got in an awesome heavy bag workout and my good momentum continued the rest of the day.  When K pulled out the leftover frosting and dipped a few Nilla Wafers into it, I allowed myself two.  That’s all I needed.  Then I immediately turned my attention elsewhere.

The question isn’t, “will I have another binge session like that?” because, yeah, you will.  Hopefully not real soon, but you will.  The real question is “what will I do after my next binge session?”

What’s your answer to that question?