July 30, 2013

Taking Care of Me is Hard Work

I'm still working on me. We continue to eat healthier food. And by "we" I mean The Mister and myself; The Boy is still eating the same crap as always, confident that ketchup, BBQ sauce, and Diet Dr. Pepper are food groups.

I haven't been able to kick the dark chocolate and Coke Zero habits, but I'm more mindful of what I am ingesting.

"More Coke Zero? Sure, don't mind if I do!"

Some days, I drink so much water that I slosh when I walk...and I'm happy that the bathroom is close by.

I can now wiggle and slide my jeans down without unbuttoning them, in a sort of scary-looking, graceless shimmy. These mom jeans balloon out at my hips and thighs, looking like clown pants. They weren't tight when I bought them...but now, with spiffy elastic cuffs at my ankles, they'd make a perfect pair of booster pants.

Maybe I should cruise the aisles of Wal-Mart and watch if the Loss Prevention team is on my tail, waiting for me to filch a canned ham or stuff several cans of Pringles down inside my waistband.

I did some closet shopping and tried on a couple pairs of slacks that used to be too tight...progress is being made, however imperfect it (and I) may be.

I still haven't purchased a scale, so I have no numbers to report, other than I believe the total is descending.

I'm feeling less hip joint pain, and that's good.

I'm a reluctant and lackadaisical participant in exercise...but even five or ten minutes of movement is better than none.

The negative voice in my head hisses You're delusional. And The Mister tells me "I knew you couldn't keep it up."

I master my death stare.

The food part of this endeavor is easier for me than the exercise part - I am making better choices at mealtimes and any snacking in the evening is limited to fruit or a piece of cheese, or maybe some veggies left over from dinner.

Putting myself first is unnatural - I am so used to being the mother, the caregiver, the doormat that I forget to take care of me.

But selflessness got me in the shape I'm in - and it will keep me feeling fat and unfit and frumpy.

My mantra: "Progress, not perfection" is keeping me from throwing in the towel and driving to the store for Reese's peanut butter cups.

The Mister is also dropping some weight, though I wouldn't say he's managing his diabetes very well. I am easing up on being the Carb Nazi - he can make better choices on his own.

Work is kicking my ass as deadlines continue to loom, and I constantly wonder if managing multiple projects at once is beyond my task juggling abilities. During the last flurry of deadlines, the voice in my head was yelling "STFU" to The Boy. I was chagrined when he told his therapist that I said it out loud in a moment when I needed quiet to concentrate on what I was doing.


I guess I need to take better care of the voice in my head, too.

Yeah, add that to your to-do list, loser.



  1. Kim--EVERY. SINGLE. MOM. has said things--colorful things--in the heat of the moment or when things get too crazily overwhelming.

    It's done. If you're into "progress, not perfection" you should also be chanting the serenity prayer. In the big scheme of things, STFU is inconsequential. It's one tiny grain of sand, siting amidst all the other grains of sand.

    Keep giving them the "death stare" and keep moving forward, even if there are times you take a step backward now and then.

  2. Stand up every half hour and lift a full Coke Zero bottle over your head 20 times each hand, then touch the floor with it 20 times, THEN take a swig. Any exercise is exercise :)

  3. It took me a long time to drop "Loser" from my vocabulary, but I did it...so can you! You have a great attitude and it will keep you on track. The serenity prayer mentioned above has been a daily for me. If you say it enough, you start to believe it. It really does work! I'll be your cheering section, anytime!


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