And the Muffin-Top Takes the Lead

How is it possible that I can wake in the morning with an unwavering resolve to eat better and workout, only to slither my spineless self to the drive-thru for some calorie-fest of a breakfast just 2 hours later?  Seriously, the speed at which I can justify downing a McGriddle mere minutes after vowing to eat clean, almost qualifies as a superpower.

I don’t mean I do this once in a while.  I do it all. the. time.

Today is the day.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said these words to myself or written them on the foggy mirror while getting ready in the morning.  I hesitate in calling these words my mantra, as I think of a mantra as something you live your life by.  Something you say over and over that not only encourages, but produces results.

I’ve seen no results from repeating today is the day.  Well, I shouldn’t say I’ve seen no results – I’ve seen results that are the inverse of what today is the day is supposed to represent; a lower number on the scale and the staving off of any upper arm cellulite.  Yeah, you read that right.  Cellulite on my upper arms.  That’s new, by the way.  Caught a glimpse of it this weekend as the sun was hitting my arm at just the right angle.  I gotta be honest, I didn’t even know cellulite in that region of the body was possible.

Given this new-found discovery, I decided to see what else might be evading me in my daily, full-mirror once-overs.

Sidebar – my mom gets very uncomfortable when things start getting too….shall we say, “real.”  So, in an effort to protect her from any ridicule at next week’s bridge game, I will swap the word “naked” for “in a bikini" in this next portion.

You know how you stand in a bikini in the mirror and look at yourself?  I mean really look at yourself. (uh, yes you do.)

You know, you’re standing there in your bikini, sucking in your stomach.  You do the half-turn to check out every angle and think to yourself, Huh, it’s not quite as bad as I thought.  Well, this past weekend, I tried something a little different.  I stood in front of the mirror - in my bikini - without sucking in my stomach or tightening any muscle groups…

***************I'll give you the moment you need to let that sink in.************

No.  Words.

And then, as if what I was looking at wasn't terrifying enough, I started to bounce up and down.  That's right, just bouncing up and down, still not forcibly tightening any muscle groups.  The bouncing exercise was initially to see what my legs looked like when I ran.  But then I couldn’t stop looking at the rest of me.  I was morbidly fascinated.  I was like a deer in the headlights. (a sad, jiggly, pasty-white deer)  I couldn’t look away.

When did this happen?  Yesterday?  Because I don’t remember the ramp-up process.    

And, look, this has nothing to do with comparing how out of shape I am with someone else.  This has to do with comparing the “me” of today, with the “me” of yesterday. (so to speak)

Let me explain a little something about myself; I think a lot of things are a good idea.  Getting back in shape?  Good idea.  Being a millionaire?  Good idea.  The trick is finding that beautiful balance between what I want and being okay with the work and commitment it will take to get me there. 

And there it is – work and commitment; my sometime nemesis.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t run from all commitment.  I was fully committed to consuming my daily allotment of Weight Watchers Points by 10 am most days.  And I used to embrace the work and commitment of fitness.  Oh, how I long to find that place again - that glorious place that drove my running shoes and me to the pavement each night after work.  That place that was sated by steamed broccoli, fish and green tea.  Not a beer, quesadillas and my comfy-cozy jammie pants.

Yet, even with that horrifyingly vivid, mega-slow mo’ replay of my ill-advised bikini experiment begging me otherwise, I can scarcely think of anything better than a fire, my jammie pants and couchin’ it for the night.

Tomorrow.  Tomorrow’s definitely gonna be the day!