Well, some of it.
We’ve got a wedding to go to early this summer, and besides being very excited about it (for lots of reasons, which I’ll share at some point), I realize I’ve got a definite deadline and my work cut out for me.
See, it’s a destination wedding. On an island. Sandy beaches, gorgeous water, palm trees.
The sort of place where people stroll or lounge about in two-piece bathing suits (or at least the women do – the men would probably look a little weird if they did), and work – at a leisurely pace – on their tans.
The sort of place I rarely frequent.
I also rarely stroll or lounge about in a two-piece bathing suit, though last summer, with all our outdoor work on the house, I at least had a very nice tan.
So anyway, my deadline. My work cut out for me.
Need to lose some weight. Firm up some flab.
Need to not frighten the other wedding guests with my Mrs. Moby Dick complexion and physique.
Need to not cringe if I happen to get caught in a random photograph.
Yes, because it’s all about me, and I’m sure everyone will be staring at me because I’m such an attention-grabbing narcissist.
Okay, of course the wedding is not about me at all. But still. It’s a date on the calendar and I like to have dates, deadlines, to focus on sometimes.
So the other day I made my decision.
I want to drop 20 pounds in about 4 months.
Break that down – 5 pounds per month. Not crazy.
Break it down more – 1.24 pounds per week, roughly. Certainly doable.
Now that the weather is warming up (sometimes), I have been wanting to get back outside and start walking/running again.
I’ve been craving salads.
Enough of the heavier, starchier winter favorites.
Time to get lean.
(Hahahahaha – I sound like a commercial. Or a lunatic.)
Now, here’s the thing.
Any time I decide “I’m going to get in shape! I’m going to exercise! I’m going to eat healthier!” and get all gung-ho about it, and start my first day of better living with old-fashioned cooked-on-the-stove oatmeal with golden raisins and walnuts and skim milk and just a little bit of brown sugar, and continue through the day making very healthy choices, rather than gravitating toward the two loves of my life – starch and fat – something in my body panics. I swear this is what’s going on. Something inside of me says “Oh no! She’s never going to eat a peanut butter and bacon sandwich again! What will we dooooooooooooooo?”
And, as a result, I get a cold.
Really – this has become as predictable as (insert your favorite predictable recurring incident here), and it completely explains last night.
At 8:54, out of nowhere, I felt like a little parade of The Itchy Brigade quick-marched up my left nostril and then divided ranks and invaded my sinuses.
I felt their scratchy feet stomp determinedly through all my various sinus cavities and I was kind of fascinated by it – feeling the invasion as it happened – while I wondered if my head might be about to explode.
It didn’t, by the way. I just ended up with painful itching eyes, sinuses, and nostrils, and a sharp headache and oh, yeah, I also had the sensation that I was staring, wide-eyed, at the sun. Owie.
So strange, and so annoying. Had a hard time falling asleep, all snuffly and itchy and with my eyes staring at the sun, even after I’d pulled down the eyelids and shut off the lights and burrowed below a few blankets.
This morning I felt like I hadn’t slept, and, to make things even more fun (sorry – it’s Gross Icky Day here), my nose just decides to open the faucet at random moments. It’s lovely.
I took an assortment of things to combat the headache, the stuffiness, the aches (oh, yes, aches too), and I took a bath and then a nap this morning, so right now I feel pretty okay, which is why I’m typing and can stare at the laptop screen without my eyes bursting into flame.
And while I was IMing with my sister about all this this morning, and laughing about it (because that’s the best thing about talking to my sister about stuff – the laughing about it all), it suddenly occurred to me that I should have predicted this.
It wasn’t germs.
It isn’t an upper respiratory thing going around.
It isn’t allergies.
It’s the resolution to eat healthier.
Or, okay, you can laugh, but you know, deep in your soul, that I’m right.
It’s my body, craving starch, trying to trick me into eating something I don’t really want to eat. My body (or whatever part of me it is…probably some manipulative section of brain, actually), is afraid I won’t eat white bread ever again, and it figures if I feel lousy and need comfort, I will cave in and make a big batch of french toast for myself.
Pretty sneaky, huh?
But I’m onto it.
Of course, that doesn’t mean I didn’t cave in and have a starchy comforting egg/ham/cheese on white toast sandwich for breakfast.
But I haven’t gone grocery shopping for the week yet, and I was short on choices.
I know. It’s no excuse. I know.
In a little while, however, I will be going shopping, and I have a lovely list of yummy, healthy things to shop for.
I’ve still got four months ahead of me.
Take that, Itchy Brigade.