Can't get all bent out of shape. No time to get all hot under the collar. Shit bricks. No need to make a mountain out of a molehill. Throw out the baby with the bath water. Scream blue bloody murder. Run home to momma. Toss my hat into the ring.
Time to face the music. Turn over a new leaf. Gotta get the show on the road. Can't drag my feet. Gotta get back on the horse. Get down to brass tacks. Go back to the drawing board. Get with the program. Go back to square one. Get my ducks in a row. Dust myself off. Drum up support. Get back on my feet. Go full tilt. Put a little elbow grease into it. Grab the bull by the horns. Gotta hit the ground running and go the extra mile.
What?!? Idiomatic nonsense not good enough for ya? You need the dirty, nitty gritty. The real scoop?
Fine... I had the kids home for Spring Break and the family for Easter. I got cocky (and not in the good sense). I slacked off on the tracking and the exercise. I compounded my dropped routines by re-introducing some old yummies which, I assured myself I could handle. Bang! I got trigger happy.
I kept busy, messing about outside with the kids. Made some lovely, healthy meals during the day, but reverted to the lazy, sloppy me time eating when the kiddies were safely tucked away in bed.
What was the moment when I knew it had all gone too far? No, it wasn't the day when I sincerely said to myself that it's sooo convenient that Superstore thought to package a single serving of their Loads of Cherry and Dark Chocolate Chip ice cream in a thick 2 litre container (did you know that you can eat the whole thing without it melting through the packaging and making a huge mess!).
I think the turning point was when my man looked on with curious horror as I lay in bed eating Sour Cream and Bacon chips from a big bag, licking the seasoning off the chips before crunching each one down and smacking my lips (you know the scene... I was deep cleavage diving for the crumbs that had fallen astray). That was the moment that a spark was lit. What really fueled the fire was still to come...
You see, I'm not really a chip person. They're good in a gross way (unlike ice cream, which is good in a multiple orgasm way). So, after noticing my man's train wreck fascination with my chip orgy, I smugly got out of bed, rolled up the remaining 2/3s of the package and stuffed it in the kitchen garbage. I proudly strutted back into the bedroom and announced that I had allowed myself to get distracted from the things that actually make me feel healthy and strong and that I felt refocused and was looking forward to a fresh start in the morning.
Like the phenomenon that my man always is, he snuggled me in and whispered "let me know if there is anything I can do to help." This, of course, only made my moment of reckoning all the more embarrassing. You see, the next day I had already decided for myself that it was pathetic to be sitting on the floor in front of the garbage can eating the chips that I had turfed mere hours ago. I had already had my epiphany that this was not the life I wanted, and was about to stand up and dump the chips down the garburator. Honest! To look up and see my man watching me was, alas, the universe's way of providing the hurricane I needed to fan my flames and set my renewed resolve into a five alarm fire.What did my hedonistic debauchery cost me? A gain of a few pounds, a loss of momentum, some angst and tears, and a week of sleepless nights (indigestion, no doubt!). All valuable lessons...none of which I want to repeat!
It's great to be back in the saddle!!! I'm celebrating this weekend by hiking up a storm.
