I’ll admit, I’m making these up as I go along and I don’t know how many there will be, or how long they will take. But since I’m a list-maker it can’t hurt to just keep calling it a Bucket List, right?
So, we are on to #2.
Ninety days of fitness. Good food. Endorphins. Discipline. Me time.
In 2009 I took a look at my body and said, “someone has GOT to do something” and for some reason I finally decided it would be me. A friend once told me “people who want to be thin, are.” That sounds a little bit mean on some level, but it’s really true. Most truth sounds kinda mean when it’s about you. But it’s really just about priorities. It just wasn’t a priority for me, which meant it was OK with me, on some level, to be 40 lbs overweight for a while. It wasn’t good or bad. It was just a fact.
I can’t really explain how or why it was different from the previous ten times, but this time, it was. I had a high school reunion coming up (which believe me is motivation enough), but if I’m being honest it wasn’t really the reunion. I was just ready. I just wanted to be thin. And with great success I shed pounds and gained muscle and an appreciation for truly excellent (real) food and excellent (real) people.
Then I quit. I didn’t quit all the way. I just quit half way. And slowly, I’ve been moving backwards. I’ve been convincing myself, like an alcoholic, that I can go back any time; I can just go back and do it again. I’ve been telling myself that I’ve just been too busy. There have been people to care for around here – dying people, sick people, little people. And they all need me.
Sheesh. What a lot of work I’ve created for myself. But there again, it can’t be good or bad. It just is.
Well, I am in list-making mode, and I’m sick of this, so it’s time. It’s time to start the next round of getting my body back. Again, dammit. This will put me in tip-top fighting shape by Valentine’s Day. I’m not sure what Valentine’s Day will hold for me this year, but I can tell you this: I will be rewarding myself with Bucket List Item #3:
I had to write “really” because I’m scared. That was my version of reassuring myself. Remember, I have that book, “Write It Down, Make it Happen” which is still sitting on my nightstand.
I realize this is really a stupid idiotic thing to do when your husband is out in the desert somewhere and you have two little kids at home. But I’ve decided not to live out of fear, and this is going to be my way of proving it to myself.
So, there it is.
Maybe I should come up with a #4 so that it doesn’t look like I’m planning to die. I mean, that’s not the end of the list. Maybe it will be something wonderful like “clean out the pantry” just to reiterate that something does in fact come after skydiving. But COME ON, let’s face it – there really isn’t much of anything that comes after skydiving except maybe “run for President” or “buy an island.” And anyway, don’t both of those seem awfully expensive? I guess maybe there’s “accept Pulitzer Prize” and “find a cure for cancer.” Those options are marginally cheaper, afterall. But no, no. I like “clean out the pantry.”
And anyway, you haven’t seen my pantry.