Resolutions Schmesolutions

As I sit here on this second to last day of 2018, I reflect on all the year has brought. I will not hash it out, because that’s what my Christmas letter is for (if you missed it, it’s not too late to catch up by clicking here).

I will say 2018 was pretty uneventful, which is good. But bad in the way that I did nothing to better myself in any way. It was another lazy year that I wish to not talk about.

But as I sit here reflecting, I also think about 2019, and the endless possibilities the coming year may bring.

Speaking of 2019, I saw something, a meme or whatever they are called, that reminded me that 2019 will be the last “teen” years for most of us. That totally freaked me out. I don’t know why. I wasn’t a large fan of my own teens, so I’m not sure why I care so much.

Anyway, a few couple of years ago, I realized New Year’s Resolutions are a complete waste of time. Statistically speaking, 80% of all resolutions fail by February. Thanks again, Google.

Honestly, I’m not sure how I got through high school without Google. It sure is much better than those grocery store Funk & Wagnall Encyclopedias our moms would get when they purchased enough olive loaf, Twinkies, and cherry Kool-Aid to earn a single volume. It took a year to get the entire series, and by then they would be outdated.

ANYWAY, I’m not making resolutions this year. What I AM going to do is make better decisions and conscious efforts to be a better person. To live the life I should be living, that I want to live. And because I am a cliche…be authentic.

These may sound like resolutions, and look suspiciously like resolutions, but they are what I would like to refer to as “Getting My Shit Together and Stop Being a Sloth Once and For All.” Or simply “Life Adjustments.”

All of this has been a long time coming, and honestly, would be happening if it was January 1st or May 19th. It’s time and the new year really has nothing to do with it. I joined an online fitness course a couple of months ago and it really has opened my eyes to what I wasn’t doing. Sometimes, we need a little push and a serious punch in the face.

I am fifty-one years old. I will be fifty-two in less than four months.

FIFTY-TWO.

I realize that fifty is the new thirty.

Or is it forty?

My point is people are living longer and living better, more productive lives. Lives that are filled with quality.

Quality. My life needs to be “quality.” I’m not saying I don’t have a good quality of life. Because I do. I am married to a wonderful man, was blessed with the best daughter anyone could possibly ask for, and pretty much want for nothing. And my health, although I could feel and look better, is pretty good for the most part.

But in this case, when I talk about “quality” I don’t mean what you think. My life has become chaotic. If that’s possible. I never know where anything is. I don’t know if I’m coming or going. I’m disorganized, disheveled, and not always doing what I truly want to do.

I feel like crap because I eat crap. And I look like crap because of the crap I eat. I’m not writing as often as I like, I’m not reading as much as I should, and I’m not exercising like a person who wants to live a better, longer life.

I bought a planner for the first time in my life, and some stickers, and a nice set of pens. For the first time in my life I intend to plan out what I want and need to do. I will plan out my meals, my exercise, my writing sessions, and anything else deemed worthy to be added. Which in my case, is pretty much everything.

I need to start making myself accountable for myself. I need to stop being lazy. Laziness just fosters more laziness. It’s a spiral that I don’t want to be on. And besides, it’s making me dizzy.

My Happy Place

It’s been a few months.  Five and half to be exact.  If you can remember that far back, my journey started in February (I Think It’s Time).  This is what I looked like:

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When I look at these photos, I am amazed at how out of shape I allowed myself to get.  At the time, I was both mentally and physically, for lack of a better word, off.  For example, almost every day after The Kid left for school, I would go back to bed and sleep half my day away, when I did finally get up, I didn’t care.  I was sad, I felt lethargic, useless, bored.  I ate 6-8 Tums a day because my meals basically consisted of a bagel and coffee for breakfast, a box of macaroni and cheese for lunch and for dinner I could eat Adam Richman from “Man vs. Food” under the table.  I didn’t exercise and my body would think I was nuts if I so much as looked at a blueberry.

But all that has changed.  This is me after 22 weeks and 4 days:

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When I started I was 154.6.  I am now 136.4.  It wasn’t easy.  I struggled.  I love to eat, so that was the biggest and most difficult challenge for me.  I exercise almost every day.  There are mornings when I am tired and would rather stay in bed because I closed at My Retail Job the night before and didn’t get home until midnight.  On those days, I force myself to get up and go exercise because I know how good I will feel after.  I sweat hard.  I drink water.  I feed my body 6-8 times a day with healthy and good foods.  I feel like I could conquer the world.  That I can achieve anything because my life change has given me my confidence back.  DH said I turned the clock back 20 years.  Awesome.  I love what I see in the mirror.  I haven’t had a Tums since February.  Because I don’t eat until I am busting at the seams.  You may think this is TMI, but I am also the best pooper ever.  The benefits are endless and bountiful.  I am in an incredible place.  I am happier than I’ve been in a long time.

I’d like to make a shout out to someone who I have not met personally yet but who has helped me to find my inner strength.  Her name is Susie.  She is mom blogger of www.not-your-average-mom.com.  When I was about 15 weeks into my “life change” (I don’t use the word “diet” because this is how I plan to live the rest of my life), she started a challenge called “Fit, Fierce and Fabulous” and I joined in (new session starts Monday, click on the link).  She pushed me to get my ass out of bed every day.  To fight for who I deserved to be.  I know I did the hard work, but I couldn’t have done it alone.  I am now officially addicted to exercise.  New European studies show that it takes 66 days to form a new habit.  I am living proof that this is a fact.

I have inspired many people.  I know this because these people have told me so.  I would have been happy to inspire just one.  Major bonus.  So, for those of you who say you can’t do it?  You are wrong.  You can do it.  Because I did it.  Make the decision now.  Not tomorrow, not Monday.  Now.  Get up.  Go for a walk.  Take small steps if you must, but take steps.  You will be happy you did.  Oh, and to answer the question I know you are all asking…the answer is yes.  I still drink my wine and eat potato chips.  But in moderation.  All in moderation.

Death of a Grouper

Remember when I posted this on my Grouper post:

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That was on January 22.  Almost 4 months ago.  Since then I have completely changed my eating habits.  That picture actually makes me sick.  It just doesn’t float my boat anymore.

I’m kinda proud of myself.  And to say I’m shocked would be the understatement of the year.  Because when I said I was a grouper, I meant it.  In every sense of the word.  I was literally a bottom feeder.

The ultimate test was this:  I went out to dinner with DH the other night and he ordered desert.  I took half a bite because he made me.  I’m ashamed to admit it, but I’m notorious for caving under peer pressure.  It did not taste good.  For once, I actually ate less than hubby.

As far as the children of Ethiopia go?  I’m sorry kids.  If I could be promised it would make it to you without spoiling, I’d send it over.  But from now on, unless it’s low-fat and healthy, that leftover crap is going straight into the trash.  And I got to this place without a stitch of therapy.  Go figure.

We cannot predict the future.  Anything can happen.  But what I can control, I will.  Honestly, I would like to live to see the kid get married and have children.  Yes, I am admitting it.  I’d like to be a grandmother one day.  And not one that is overweight and wrought with medical problems.  Thank you very much.

“A minute on the lips, a lifetime on the hips” is so true on so many levels.  So choose wisely my friends.  It’s a matter of life and death.  But it’s okay to splurge once in a while.  In fact, I encourage it.  Go for oysters and wine.  Then exercise those suckers right off.  Wink wink…