Perhaps January 3 will become an auspicious date, one to look back on and celebrate. At the very least, I can say that I just made it through Day 1 of the detox plan, all over again.
What? How did that come to pass, you may ask. Well, my friends, let's journey back for a moment, to Dec. 18. In the short space of a few hours, I realized that with my oldest home from school, there was no way any of us were going to survive if I simultaneously tried to stick to this food plan. No way, no how. With regrets, I filed this plan away, targeted to start the very day that the kiddos went back to school. Yep, that was today.
In the meantime, I briefly entertained the idea of eating "mostly good" but quickly accepted, in a resigned sort of way, that my husband is right: I am not a halfway kind of woman. It seemed to me that this must be somewhat like quitting smoking...again, and again, and again. Here I was, just starting down that road. Because truly, I have not spent my life in dieting land. This is pretty much new territory for me. True, I have modified my diet from time to time, but always on my terms.
On the plus side, this forced me to grapple with a lesson that I seem to not have internalized as of yet: I'm not perfect. sigh. Even though I *know* in my heart that I don't even want to be perfect, it still seems to hurt whenever I come face to face with this cold, hard reality. Ouch.
On the down side, was the coffee. That first blissful sip, the slide back down the slipperier-than-ice slope of java...wait, it was actually too sweet. Ha. That lasted for, oh, about a millisecond (okay, a day), and then I was right back to my normal two-fisted x-large coffees with skim and sugar. And yes, multiple times a day, and yes, my caffeine tremors started to reappear, and yes, I am perfectly aware that it is not good for me. Mmm-hmmm, that's a little defensiveness you may detect there.
Fast forward to today: all systems are a go, I diligently stuck to the program and only the program, and sister, let me tell you, it was hard. It sucked. So much worse than the first time. I was, by turns, cranky, miserable, craving pizza and a chocolate milkshake, cranky, miserable, resigned, cranky, miserable, and now...I feel like I've reached a new place of peace. Not calm, but peace. I realized that I was maybe not going to be able to escape this feeling of wretchedness (going to the movies? nope, too much temptation from popcorn), but that instead, here was an Opportunity. With a capital "O." The opportunity to just sit with my discomfort, to recognize how hard this is, and how gross I feel, and to possibly, just possibly, draw a step closer to treating my body with the respect it deserves.
Wow. I just wrote that. And then deleted it. And then re-wrote it. I am betting there is something there to think about. I was, and am, pretty sure that I respect my body and myself a pretty darn lot. I wonder, then, what this comment is all about, and where it came from? (Or really, am I just hallucinating, from coffee withdrawal?!)
I've hooped today, three times, actually! I've made it through my day, and am on track for tomorrow. I am taking it one step at a time. Please, when you see me, remind me of this.
Here's to seeing only half of me this time next year!
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