So I'll start this post by saying that I hate New Year's Resolutions. They have always been, at least for me, a constant reminder of my inability to focus on one thing long enough to see it through to fruition. I have suffered from this my entire life: self noting the amount of times I changed college major focuses, jobs, clothes, hairstyles, etc...
I hate resolutions because looking back at my failed completion of each makes me feel, well, like a failure.
Take for instance the year that I swore I would run the NYC marathon, if you need to ask me how this ends, simply ask me the last time I ran around the block. Or the time that I swore that particular year would be the last year that I procrastinated. I can name at least a half dozen things right now that I need to do that could have been done weeks ago. The list goes on: from enriching myself with classes or lessons of things I've always wanted to learn more about, to getting business ideas off the ground that I've been working on for years, it's an endless cycle of incomplete failures.
A few years ago I took to writing my resolutions down and carrying them with me everyday so that I could go back and reference them throughout the year to help me stay on track. A few months ago, I realized that I only had 4 items (out of 2 dozen) left on that list and felt a wonderful sense of accomplishment, until I realized that I had started that list 4 years ago...
Maybe my inability to complete all of these resolutions was because I always gave myself too many, constantly identifying areas that I felt needed work. Or maybe I'm just lazy. It's probably a little bit of both. For every failed completetion of a resolution, I've always had an excuse.
This year I have one resolution and am out of excuses. I am currently still carrying around 15 lbs of baby weight that I packed on from stuffing myself with anything that wasn't nailed down while I was pregnant, all the while telling myself that I hadn't gained that much and that most of it was "water or baby weight." Imagine my shock and dismay when I didn't deliver a 30 lb baby this past July.
My resolution this year is to lose the last of the weight and a little extra for good measure. Not because I think I need to, which I do. And not because none of my clothes fit, which they don't. My reason this year, a reason I hope will help me reach my goal is that I MUST.
I MUST lose this weight because I have been given the great honor of being in one of my best friend's wedding this coming May. Her wedding is going to be beautiful, as her and her fiance are completely in love, they have a beautiful site where the wedding weekend will be held and a fantastic photographer who will be capturing all of this on film that will last for eternity. But even that is not the whole truth as to why I MUST lose this weight.
I MUST lose this weight because I am a foolish, foolish woman, destined to never learn from my mistakes in the past. I am a foolish woman because 5 weeks after I gave birth, I went in for my dress fitting and convinced the seamstress to order me a dress that was 2 sizes smaller than what currently fit because I "definitely" wouldn't be this big come the wedding. The wise seamstress tried to talk me out of this colossal mistake by telling me that it would take time to shrink myself back down, that it wasn't realistic for me to think that I could do it that quickly. I laughed at this poor woman thinking, she didn't know me, I could do it. With great hesitation she placed the order for my dress, in the size of my delusional choosing, with one caveat. I had to sign a waiver stating that if the dress didn't fit once it came in, then she would not be held responsible as she had advised against this. I signed away, without blinking- fully confident that she was overreacting.
My son is 5 months old and I am exactly 2 lbs lighter than I was at that fitting.
I'll just allow that to sink in for a moment.
You see, I've spoken about losing the rest of this weight but have done absolutely nothing to actually make it happen. I have continued to ingest the same amount of food that I did while pregnant, complete with my mid afternoon chocolate fix and have showed zero signs of slowing down.
So now, I MUST lose this weight. It's not a matter of "oh, the dress will be tight and slightly unflattering," it will be a matter of not being able to zip it closed! How horrifying for my wonderful friend on her beautiful day, perfectly orchestrated to portray a day she has dreamt about her entire life. Here comes the gorgeous bride and her stupid friend whose dress doesn't zip because she is a stupid foolish woman.
The reason I am making this public is because I MUST lose this weight. If I publicize this dire emergency then I will have shamed myself into accepting this horrible truth. I ask anyone who cares about me and if you're reading this, then you probably do, to ask me when I see you: how are you doing with your diet? When was the last time you worked out? Those pants are looking a little tight, are you still stuffing your fat face daily? And if you see me near a platter of cheese, politely tell me to slowly back away and perhaps offer your shoulder to cry on.
If I feel no shame or accountability then I'm afraid I will fail just as I have in years past to follow through. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I'm already dreading breaking up with the fresh pint of Ben & Jerry's that I have in my freezer tonight before we have even properly gotten to know one another but I MUST do this. That means (gasp!) giving up my nightly glass (or 3 ) of wine, sharing cookies with the hubbs on the couch after we put the little man to bed (the little sugar hoarder inside me is now screaming NOOOOOOO!!!!) and Sunday Funday's filled with chicken wings and stromboli (the horror!)
While I have to admit it was good while it lasted, the party is officially over.
The devil's incarnate. Ben and Jerry.
Deana, if you're reading this post, I apologize. I am a foolish woman and you deserve better. I will give it my all from today and going forward to give you the proper representation on your special day that you deserve. If I fail, then I will pretend that I fell down a flight of stairs the weekend of your wedding and asked to be pushed down the aisle in a wheelchair so that noone can see that the back of my dress is hanging open for the breeze.
I am a foolish, foolish woman and I feel SHAME.
And so the countdown begins, wish me luck. I'll be sure to update my progress good or bad, in hopes of rejoicing in the former.
This post is to be continued.....