I have a habit of making grand gestures and resolutions only to succumb to the first temptation that crosses my path. (With the exception of my marriage vow, naturally.) In other words: no, my “no refined sugar for Lent!” decree was not a complete success. (Did I write about my "no refined sugar for Lent!" decree? Anyway, I made one.) In my defense, I’ve made some helpful substitutions: almond butter on rice cakes instead of peanut butter and jellies; yogurt and a banana instead of a bagel; Kashi cereal instead of not-Kashi cereal. I’m going to have an omelet for lunch instead of a Whoopie Pie. So that’s something. (Every time I SEE a Whoopie Pie, a cupcake, or a donut and pass it by, an occurrence that happens far too often, an angel gets its wings.) Also, I’ve been going to the gym.
I love the Y. It’s bright, clean, and has every piece of exercise equipment and exercise class under the sun. I don’t even mind that the senior citizens in the community have turned it into a social club. So what if they don’t exercise, but just mill around drinking coffee and glaring at the kids who run into them on their way to the play center? When I’m 75, I’m going to do whatever I want, too. I will definitely clog up the lanes in the lap pool and then complain loudly when someone accidentally bumps me.
I do mind the people who get aggressive in the parking lot. God forbid we don’t get the closest parking space to the door. At the gym. Where we’re going to walk on a treadmill for 45 minutes. I understand if it’s a mom with a zillion kids or if it’s a rainy day, but to the little miss twenty-something who put my life in peril in pursuit of a parking space, you have issues. And I don’t like you.
As for the sugar thing, my pastor said that God doesn’t care if you stop eating chocolate. If we substitute “chocolate” for “jellybeans,” then hopefully, God and I are square. Easter is two weeks away, and I am going to make a valiant effort during the home stretch. By valiant effort, I mean that I’m going to make one last irresolute decree here on my blog under the auspices of religion.
Meanwhile, I went off caffeine this past weekend. Initially, it was accidental (no direct access), and then I decided, what the heck? I might as well rid this drug from my system.
To those considering giving up caffeine: the cold-turkey approach is a suck. John kept having me hold out my hands. Then he’d laugh hysterically because my ring finger wouldn’t stop trembling. Also, there was extreme nausea and the worst headache I’ve ever had. But it’s over now, and not being a coffee-drinker, I no longer feel the urgency to drink Diet Dr. Pepper at 10 in the morning. My kidneys will thank me someday.
I dedicate my Monday morning song to my husband, because he puts up with a whole lot from me. No, I’m serious. I’m difficult. And I’m thankful I’m still the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with.
Happy Monday. To those of you sipping your caffeinated beverages, I now look down on you with disgust for I am a better person than you. Ha ha.