It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day . . . .
It’s April, damn it!
You can justify anything. You are the master justifier; the Yoda of self-vindication. Your expertise in justifying is surpassed only by your finesse at helicopter parenting. No one can hover like you, from preschool to PTA to polishing the drip pans in Kip’s apartment last week (after dusting, vacuuming, scrubbing, mopping, magic erasing, and scouring every surface in the studio) which was a lot of work and an excellent reason to have fajitas and margaritas.
Stop lamenting about what 256 cases of puberty*, six years of Friday and Saturday nights waiting to hear your teenagers say “I’m home” (in a mountain town with icy roads and 50,000 tipsy tourists), and three college tuitions did to your body.
Complaining and lamenting and justifying do not burn calories.
Get over it! It is Monday morning afternoon, and you are pointing and clicking when you could be doing this:
* “Boot camp” – this is what I did at 6:00 a.m. before I started teaching sixth grade six years ago; before five springs (if you have a sixth grader, you know exactly what I’m talking about, and if you don’t know now, you will by the end of April).
What is the best way, the only way, to achieve a goal?
Stop drowning your worries in chips and salsa and cheese and Pinot Noir and really good salami and rustic bread and the best pizza (Bar Bocce) on the planet (other than Numero 28 in New York City) . . . .This sounds familiar because it is what you justify doing week after week after week while you are lamenting and complaining and watching the Biggest Loser.
Honey, the number one cause of death is heart disease.
Worry about that.
You are still the person in the boot camp photo above give or take a roasting chicken or two or five. However, on a sad, yet motivating note, Tony inadvertently snapped the photo below of your backside at Kip’s going away party Friday night. It turns out, while you were busy lamenting and complaining and justifying and drowning your worries in dip, an entire stuffed turkey established a homestead behind (and just below) your back.
Kip is headed for the Peace Corps. No excuses. I do not want to be housing that turkey when we visit.
Stop making excuses about the broken toe, the bad knee, and the dead arm. Please stop making excuses, we are so tired of hearing about your forlorn appendages. What about your internal organs? They are pleading with your left hand to step it up.
Your left hand can do more than left click and tap on e, a, and d. It can insert a table!
The little photo is Luis – our sizzling cycling instructor.
March is gone. Let it go.
It’s get in shape April.
So do it.
Get up off the couch, get dressed, and crush this goal!
On top of Mt. Tallac (six years ago).
This post was inspired by Blog of Impossible Things .