ms. fat booty

I need a personal drill-sergeant.

I need a relentless voice who will reach through my alarm clock, shake me awake and stay up in my face until I take some serious action.

Two mornings in a row I have set my alarm for 5:30 with the great intention of waking up, working out and feeling like a fabulous hot mama for the rest of the day. Instead, for two mornings in a row, I have hit the snoozer every ten minutes for an hour and spent the rest of the day cursing myself for being a lazy sloth.

Years ago, without a drill-sergeant, I hiked in high altitudes to Machu Picchu for hours and hours, steep mountain passes and treacherous down-hill climbs, all the while marveling at how incredible it was that my body could do this, that my body had brought me to such a beautiful place. Maybe it was altitude-delirium, but I remember being able to see myself, as if I was outside of my own body, hiking along a narrow pass, in total awe that the person doing this was me: complete mind-body-spirit balance-bliss.

The whole mind-body-spirit thing is completely out of whack for me right now.

I take care of my spirit like it’s my job: I surround myself with great people, I rest when I need to, I write, I meditate, I knit, I laugh and carry on and make sure that my soul is well-fed.

I take good care of my mind: I work in an environment that challenges me, I take classes to push myself to learn more, I read a ton and I don’t shy away from a hearty debate.

But for some reason, no matter how much I know it’s good for me on all sorts of levels, I am struggling to take care of my body. I have completely strayed from what I know that I need.

Going to the gym is torture for me. Last year I got into a fitness-DVD routine that I was hooked on for awhile but now if I go near the TV to put the DVD on, I have the uncontrollable urge to put my hand through the screen and choke the smiling, muscly guy who keeps telling me to push myself a little harder. I have fallen into a rut of lazing on the couch and amassing a stockpile of excuses for why I can’t exercise.

What is holding me back from doing what is good for me?

I love how I feel when I go for a long power walk, when I ride my bike with my dad, when I Zumba/laugh-my-self-silly and when I practice yoga. I feel beautiful. Strong. I feel energized and positive and like I can do anything.

When I take care of my body, I remind myself that the imperfect parts of myself serve a wonderful purpose and are really quite fantastic.

So maybe mornings aren’t for me, but it’s time to nurture Ms. Fat Booty.

I may not be climbing a mountain anytime soon, but that balanced-bliss, feeling fabulous about myself thing?

I’m ready.

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jackdaddy

It’s Monday and everyone’s dreaming about Friday.

I hadn’t even made it through ten minutes of the workday and people were already moaning about the weekend being over, how much they can’t wait for vacation, how tired they are, how much they hate Mondays.

Don’t get me wrong, I was right there with them. This morning my alarm clock and I were far from friends. I managed to get through the day. I whined occasionally about how I didn’t feel good, raced through to get as much work done as I possibly could and then got out of there as soon as I possibly could.

Monday. Done.

And then I saw a note that an old friend wrote about her day. She wrote about the kindness of others, the kindness she experienced while running errands with her father who has Parkinson’s. She wrote about the gentle greeting of the woman at the dry cleaner who hugged her dad upon his arrival and departure and about the man who sang a Christmas carol while helping her dad walk and about the many people who waited with patience as she and her dad slowly made their way through doors.

Her note made me reflect on my own day, the day I had wished away.

The little girl bogged down with a huge backpack and giant saxophone case who rushed to hold the door open for me this morning. The excitement in the eyes of one of my kids who got her first college acceptance in the mail. The cup of hot tea my mom joined me for after a long day at work. The old man who waved me in to merge with traffic even though everyone behind him was honking. The texts with Kate about the amazing bowl full of heads that she crocheted for me. The memory of my friend’s dad playing the drums with wild abandon in his pajamas in their front hallway.

Thank you to my old friend and her jackdaddy for reminding me that today is more important than tomorrow.

My Monday wasn’t much, but it sure had it’s beautiful moments.

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