I woke up this morning at 5:30 a.m. pissed off at my husband. And believe it or not, it wasn't because his alarm was blaring. He had been a complete asshole in my other dream life and I wasn't about to leave the grudge behind. So I trudged behind him to the living room, grumbling about some secret girlfriend and a rooftop rendezvous in a dollhouse.
As part of a new exercise regime, stemming from a new battery in our bathroom scale, I have promised to rise in the wee hours of the morning to be a workout accomplice. The scale has been out of commission since the first official day of holiday gorging began. And now that it's over, a new battery reveals a poignant truth about the past 6 weeks of celebrating, beer, cookies, See's, etc. Well, sort of. I discovered that my weight has not budged since November, phew. John emerged from the bathroom with a look of disgust. And then he recited his college weight with great determination (I didn't bother mentioning to him that 12 years, 2 kids, more work and less play makes John an average adult weight with average adult love handles-but you can dare to dream, honey). That's when the sit-ups, push-ups and burpee mornings were instated. And yes, I was a proponent of this all because I would sooner loose a little sleep and gain a little muscle before enduring days more of "weight whining about the college days".
After 10 sit-ups, I dropped my dream grudge. After 10 more sit-ups, I was awake. And after the god-damned burpee torture (thanks for that, sis) I was TOTALLY AWAKE...at 5:56 a.m. Then John pulled on his wetsuit and left. Okay, just me and the dog, a roaring fire, a dark room, Lucky Magazine and complete silence. (Did I just sigh aloud?)
Flipping through the pages of fabulous fashion, I realized my focus was not on great handbags (have one), nor patent platform heels in ruby red (got some), I was subconsciously shopping for skincare products. Since my 32nd (cough, cough) birthday I've kept a watchful eye on my face. Yesterday, I noticed that those sleep wrinkles beside and under my eyes, the ones I've assumed fade after a few minutes like a crease of the sheets across your arm, DO NOT FADE!!! I still have deep creases beside and under my eyes at 3 p.m. (I finally had a second to look in the mirror twice in one day). I mean, last year, it became clear that going to the pool in the morning was an all day sacrifice because the goggle rings around my eyes refuse to "un-dent" anymore. I actually had to explain to my gynecologist last month that children were not the reason I looked so haggard-it was my damned pool workouts! But I digress, back to the point: I've decided to use my sister's summer wedding as my facial skin improvement deadline. Yes, that's right, I'm prepared to spend, scrub, lather and peel whatever it takes to make this face Hollywood gorgeous for the day I walk down that aisle (in, my matron of honor dress). After all, a wedding, mine, hers or yours, is a great goal for self-improvement.
And so I began to picture myself in salmon colored taffeta, a stiffly styled coif atop my head, with the face of a cover model flouncing down the aisle in youthful perfection. I have a lot of work to do in the short 6 months before this ordeal. And then, I followed my imagined, albeit porcelain-faced, self through the motions of this future wedding and realized that I would be seated at the head table with the wedding party and someone was going to hand ME A MICROPHONE. OMG I have to speak. OMG I have to speak about my sister (admittedly an easy topic until you introduce the 200 or so people listening to me, critiquing my wavering voice, the tears of nervousness, I mean joy, rolling down my flawless cheeks). I'm panicking in the pre-dawn dark of my living room with 6 months to go. No amount of sit-ups will make this task easier. I have to write a speech. A speech. I have to weave the beauty of my sister as herself, as a bride, and as a wife into one cohesive speech. I have to say something complimentary and sweet about her new husband and their relationship. I have to reflect on my own marriage and give prophetic advice. I have to make the whole crowd laugh once or twice (ALL of them laugh...) I have to remember snippets of my childhood with my sister. WHOAH, there's so much to be said but I have to choose each word carefully. Everyone will be listening, everyone will be anticipating my thoughtful quips, my comedic timing, my tearful but happy delivery. I will be standing in front of a crowd of 200 people with a microphone and I cannot blow it.
I have to give a speech.
As part of a new exercise regime, stemming from a new battery in our bathroom scale, I have promised to rise in the wee hours of the morning to be a workout accomplice. The scale has been out of commission since the first official day of holiday gorging began. And now that it's over, a new battery reveals a poignant truth about the past 6 weeks of celebrating, beer, cookies, See's, etc. Well, sort of. I discovered that my weight has not budged since November, phew. John emerged from the bathroom with a look of disgust. And then he recited his college weight with great determination (I didn't bother mentioning to him that 12 years, 2 kids, more work and less play makes John an average adult weight with average adult love handles-but you can dare to dream, honey). That's when the sit-ups, push-ups and burpee mornings were instated. And yes, I was a proponent of this all because I would sooner loose a little sleep and gain a little muscle before enduring days more of "weight whining about the college days".
After 10 sit-ups, I dropped my dream grudge. After 10 more sit-ups, I was awake. And after the god-damned burpee torture (thanks for that, sis) I was TOTALLY AWAKE...at 5:56 a.m. Then John pulled on his wetsuit and left. Okay, just me and the dog, a roaring fire, a dark room, Lucky Magazine and complete silence. (Did I just sigh aloud?)
Flipping through the pages of fabulous fashion, I realized my focus was not on great handbags (have one), nor patent platform heels in ruby red (got some), I was subconsciously shopping for skincare products. Since my 32nd (cough, cough) birthday I've kept a watchful eye on my face. Yesterday, I noticed that those sleep wrinkles beside and under my eyes, the ones I've assumed fade after a few minutes like a crease of the sheets across your arm, DO NOT FADE!!! I still have deep creases beside and under my eyes at 3 p.m. (I finally had a second to look in the mirror twice in one day). I mean, last year, it became clear that going to the pool in the morning was an all day sacrifice because the goggle rings around my eyes refuse to "un-dent" anymore. I actually had to explain to my gynecologist last month that children were not the reason I looked so haggard-it was my damned pool workouts! But I digress, back to the point: I've decided to use my sister's summer wedding as my facial skin improvement deadline. Yes, that's right, I'm prepared to spend, scrub, lather and peel whatever it takes to make this face Hollywood gorgeous for the day I walk down that aisle (in, my matron of honor dress). After all, a wedding, mine, hers or yours, is a great goal for self-improvement.
And so I began to picture myself in salmon colored taffeta, a stiffly styled coif atop my head, with the face of a cover model flouncing down the aisle in youthful perfection. I have a lot of work to do in the short 6 months before this ordeal. And then, I followed my imagined, albeit porcelain-faced, self through the motions of this future wedding and realized that I would be seated at the head table with the wedding party and someone was going to hand ME A MICROPHONE. OMG I have to speak. OMG I have to speak about my sister (admittedly an easy topic until you introduce the 200 or so people listening to me, critiquing my wavering voice, the tears of nervousness, I mean joy, rolling down my flawless cheeks). I'm panicking in the pre-dawn dark of my living room with 6 months to go. No amount of sit-ups will make this task easier. I have to write a speech. A speech. I have to weave the beauty of my sister as herself, as a bride, and as a wife into one cohesive speech. I have to say something complimentary and sweet about her new husband and their relationship. I have to reflect on my own marriage and give prophetic advice. I have to make the whole crowd laugh once or twice (ALL of them laugh...) I have to remember snippets of my childhood with my sister. WHOAH, there's so much to be said but I have to choose each word carefully. Everyone will be listening, everyone will be anticipating my thoughtful quips, my comedic timing, my tearful but happy delivery. I will be standing in front of a crowd of 200 people with a microphone and I cannot blow it.
I have to give a speech.
Comments
I hear you with the six month plan. I to have a wedding in 6 months, thankfully I dont have to be on display like you but I am the sister of the groom so there will be photos taken. I am 5 weeks into my new 'I'm not pregnant anymore' life and I am beginning to realise how far I have to go and how hard it will be to get back a shape that I have not worn in over 5 years. I have no sentimental attachment to the love handles, the saddlebags and the stretched babysack that was once a tighter tummy (not that I have ever had a six pack but still no the 2day old balloon belly that I have now)so why is it so hard to let all my baggage go??? Not to mention the relaxing tea and bikkies that I need to unwind with.
Best of luck for your goal and I will use you as inspiration for my own. Cheers.