Mornings are so easy for me when it comes to nutrition.
First thing upon waking, I down a bottle of water. Follow that with black coffee, Shakeology, and hot water with lemon.
When the rest of the fam eats breakfast two hours later, I join them. A typical morning calls for veggie scrambles, organic sausage or bacon, and a side of fruit. Maybe some green tea.
I snack on fresh fruit and almonds. Drink my water and green tea. Have another cup of coffee. Lunch is often greens, carrots, peppers, and either tuna, salmon, or chicken with a vinaigrette or Paleo-friendly dinner leftovers.
Then the kids come home. I hit my afternoon slump (which I’m pretty sure stands for Slowly Losing Unwavering Motherly Patience) and I long for another cup o’ joe. But that would fall under “bad ideas” due to my on-again, off-again insomnia, so I petulantly sip another mug of lemon water. Munch angrily on baby carrots and apples. The crunch does little to abate my growing irritation or my ever-increasing desire for those frozen Girl Scout cookies.
Yes. Frozen. I keep them in the freezer for one reason only. To keep them fresh because we don’t finish them quickly enough? WRONG. You are IN-correct-o! They taste better that way. Freeze up some Caramel deLites then drop four of ’em in a frosty glass of milk. Yes, milk. As in dairy. As in cow.
(Pardon me for a moment. I must wipe the drool from my keyboard.)
I’ve lost my mind one or two (or countless) times this cookie season. It’s all for a great cause, right? The Bear pushed through to her 100+ badge, her troop earned some moolah. Girl Scout power!
And thank the gods of elastic waistbands and yoga pants.
The abs that had begun their long-awaited return after that holiday debacle saw their shadow and made a hasty retreat. Damn deLites/Thin Mints/Shortbreads. Thanks a lot, Thanks-a-lots.
Where is my restraint? I used to polish it daily, put it on the mantle, and point it out to anyone who cared to admire its luster. I shoved it in the face of anyone who didn’t care. My willpower was a great source of pride for this FitGal.
It seems I have misplaced it. Let me check the freezer…
Nope. Definitely not there.
So I am focusing on that marathon in less than three months. I’d like to be able to wear my sports bra without starting a wave. The pool opens not long after the race. I’d like to don last year’s bikinis (and possibly a few new ones) without anyone commenting, “Good for her that she doesn’t even care.”
Even more, I would like to lose the sluggishness and mood swings processed sugar brings. The highs and lows of energy and agitation have simply got to make their exit. I must once again be the example I claim to be.
And no more “just one more day.” That’s been my go-to since the first cases made their appearance. Now, I am no mathematician, but those one-more-days tend to add up to numbers much greater than one. And I’m pretty certain I can’t fool my abs into believing the cookies are just really tasty tuna.
So today I resist. I once again sip my tea and my lemon water. I turn to fruit for my sweet and carrots for my crunch. I gaze at the motivational pictures I’ve set as my iPhone wallpaper. I remind myself that I am far more comfortable in my own skin when my own skin isn’t taxed quite so much.
The crankiness will subside. It’ll even be replaced by a general feeling of wellness. And then I’ll look back on this time and laugh and laugh…
Until those sugary little devils come back next year…
But by then, I’ll be ready.