"You can take baby steps . . . or you can LEAP toward your goal. The choice is yours."
And I gotta say: After these red-velvet buttery indolent and/or work chair-bound days, I do feel ready to LEAP.
But "facing reality" is also a key factor in any success plan. I've got two kids and a husband home for the holidays, it's family time, and I've also got a to-do list a mile long. In other words: This ain't Boot Camp Week.
So, baby steps it is. Which today meant fish and salad for lunch, a veggie-packed sauce on my spaghetti plus a veggie-packed salad for dinner, and now I'm off to zumba!
Of course, I also had a nice bit of wine today, which was lovely. I haven't been drinking much lately because of all the headaches — and oh what a treat it is to drink wine and enjoy it!! No regrets.
I won't have zumba again until Saturday, and I'm determined to do some sort of exercise before then; we'll see if the weather cooperates for an outdoor walk. (I opened the front door this morning to gauge the weather for a walk to Walgreen's, and near froze my nose off.)
Oh! Here's something funny that happened Christmas Eve. At Trader Joe's, a customer at the Tasting Corner was loudly bitching to the clerk about her annoying family who planned to serve meatballs and pasta for Christmas diner, the horror! And as she went on and on, another customer and I met each other's eyes and smiled wryly. She said, "Isn't that what Christmas is all about?" and I laughed, and then she kind of shrugged and said, "Well, actually, I think for some families it is," and I laughed again. And then, as she was leaving, she pulled her cart next to me and murmured, sotto voce, "...and I just have to tell you..." — and I'm thinking she's going to compliment my hair or my smile, the two things I get the most compliments on — "...you have the most beautiful skin."
I was tempted to take her by the hand, lead her over to Starbuck's (J, don't you love that you can picture exactly where I am?), and tell her all about the ravages soon to be inflicted on this lovely dermis o' mine . . . but tempus was fugiting, and the moment passed.
Still. Nice, huh?
(I don't have lovely skin. I am an aging veteran of the Acne Wars; my skin is ruddy and pitted and scarred. But! I exfoliate, I moisturize, I act as if, in other words. And I'd like to thank the good people at Mary Kay and Oil of Olay for the role they play in my lovely facade.)
Eek, look at the time — let's zumba!