So, thinking thin mantra for the day.....
Excuses leave room for error—and you don’t have time for either!
Let's be honest here: If we had a dollar for every excuse we have made on why we don't work out or why we can't stick to a diet, I would have stomped Oprah on the Forbes list. I am talking, I would have one house strictly for shoes to be displayed, Imelda Marcos style, a seperate house for my clothes and one to live in. I would be able to dress myself in hundred dollar bills (ya'll) and bathe in gold coins. Yeah, that is how many excuses I have made over the years.
And to listen (or read) to me you would think I stopped making excuses, because how can you drop 70 pounds while making excuses? I mean the surgery helps, but it doesn't do all the work. You have to turn off Jerry Springer and hop on a treadmill every now and again. And EVERY SINGLE DAY I find myself trying to create new and inventive excuses that will allow me to stay glued to the couch watching Wife Swap all day. Some days, it's just the reality that I am tired and don't feel like it. But I do it. Other days I try to get out of running by psyching myself out of my ability to do it. And then there are the days where I get really creative. Here are a few of the shameful ways I have tried to excuse myself from working out:
~My legs were prickly despite shaving them the night before so I can't focus on yoga when they rub together and irritate me.
~The sports bra that keeps my boobs from bouncing back and giving me two black eyes when I run was in the wash.
~I hyperextended my vagina while doing lunges so there is no way I am doing anything until that injury heals.
~I had a nightmare that I flew off the treadmill and through the drywall, spraining my ankle and causing swelling on my brain so horrible that they had to shave my head and remove part of my skull to keep me from dying. In turn, this leaves me with a giant bald spot that will either have to be covered with a yamaka (provoking religious inquiries) or I will have to face the world Sinead O'Connor style until it grows back. Neither thought appeases me. Plus they might have to put the "spare" piece of skull inside my abdomen so it remains viable until it can be reattached and I don't need anything being inserted that will make my stomach or thigh look bigger. Why chance it, right?
~And my favorite excuse for all things un-fun....I haven't pooped in days and that makes everything uncomfortable.
Despite my best efforts, I seldom give in to the devil on my shoulder that tells me to just relax for the day. Instead, I put on long yoga pants and the dirty sports bra, give my vagina a little stretch, put on a helmet for safety, and hope I don't shit myself while running. What else can I do?
Exercise isn't the worst thing in the world (I mean I was married to the world's biggest douch for 9 years), but it isn't something I wake up and spring out of bed for either. I can always find an excuse to fail, but I think it's finally time to find a reason to succeed. True, my life is a little emptier without cake, ice cream, milkshakes and tiny chocolate bars, but what I have gained from this change is so much more relevant to my life. To be able to chase my kids again, or take walks without feeling an aneurysm coming on, or to throw on a pair of pants without worrying about whether they hide my flab, is a pretty cool feeling. To squeeze by someone or something without knocking knick knacks off a table definitely helps too.
To look in the mirror without crying is something I never thought I would be able to do again. To face people and not fidget with my clothes making sure my giant badonkadonk is covered, or to smile for a picture and not have a face with so many chins that I look like a human sharpei is something worth setting all the other excuses aside.
Life is short and complicated. By the time we've navigated our way through it and figured it out, we are gone. We might as well make the final destination worth the long ride in a stinky car, with no air conditioning, only AM stations and two whiney kids in the back seat asking "Are we there yet??". Instead of bitching our way through it, roll down the windows, stop for ice cream and buy some duct tape for those nagging kids. I'm just sayin'.....