Wellness, Post Seven. Meh.

This was not a week filled with my finest moments. The end of last week and the first half of this week were not awesome. I do have a small arsenal of excuses handy: a couple of dates (!!!), a massive blizzard, the news of Big Daddy reproducing, lots of work...but in the end, they are simply that. Excuses.

I did make it to the gym a few times last week, and went yesterday morning. Plus I dusted off my kettlebells and the DVD and did that twice. I used my second-to-heaviest kettlebell (12 lbs) and was surprised by how much I felt it the days after. I need to remind myself to use that more often.

My biggest disappointment has been the eating. I went out with John McCain twice, and both times I ate like a pig. Why? Why not? It's been so long since I've been able to go to a really nice restaurant and just order whatever I want, not fretting about the prices. The first night we went out we had zucchini fries and cheese fondue for appetizers, and then I had pork tenderloin served on a bed of garlic mashed potatoes and garnished with a slab of bacon that was approximately the size of a necktie. Yum.

The second date was another restaurant and another cheese fondue, plus spinach-artichoke dip. I was so stuffed from the appetizers that I ended up ordering chicken tortilla soup, and couldn't even finish that.

I forgot that John McCain eats like this. All the time. I remember back when we dated before, back when I was trying to find reasons to not date him, the food became one of my issues. And of course, I realize that he's not putting a gun to my head and forcing me to order the more decadent choices. I am a grown up, at least chronologically, and ordering something from the healthier choices on the menu would solve that little conflict.

But for someone like me, for whom eating out is a luxury, it's hard to not go whole hog (pardon the pun). If this dating thing is to continue, I'm either going to have to make sure I work out like a banshee the day of/before the date, or else start showing some restraint.

So I was feeling pretty crappy about my efforts this week. I'm still in the size 16 jeans which is disappointing. They are pretty baggy, but the 14's just aren't comfortable yet. It's the fat belly that's standing between me and my stack of size 14 jeans. Other than the cardio and the ab work in my classes, I don't know what else I can do besides just keep plugging along.

Actually, I do know that there is something I probably should cut out of my diet, and I think it would help to not only reduce my muffin top but improve the quality of my life in general.

I need to stop drinking.

There. I said it. Those of you who know me, and know me well, are aware that this is something I've struggled with off and on for a while. But I think it's time for me to stop struggling, and just let it go.

It's not that I'm drinking vodka out of a coffee mug every morning, I don't drink every day. Maybe 3 times a week. It's just that I've always used the drinkies as a sort of self-medicating thing. Times of stress pop up and I drink more than I probably should. It's probably a good thing that I'm poor. Wine is one of the little luxuries I treat myself to when I have a little extra change jingling around in the checking account, a rare treat indeed.

I don't know if the no-drinks thing will be a permanent lifestyle change, or a temporary one, but I'm going to stop for now. I know most people wait until they hit rock-bottom before they stomp on the brakes, but just between you and me, that rock-bottom stuff scares the crap out of me. I tend to do things to the hilt, and just imagining what my rock-bottom could be is terrifying.

My best friend has had her own issues with the drinking. Today I sat on her bed and cried as I told her that I'm done. I wasn't crying because I was ashamed or anything like that, I cried because thinking about NOT drinking is sad for me. I love my wine. I love hanging out with my friends and pouring the cabernet sauvignon or the malbec or the pinot. But I don't love watching my will power melt with every glass. I don't love waking up and reading the stupid ass tipsy texts I've sent. I most certainly don't love how my body feels after a night of sipping.

So I'm hoping that my BFF joins me on this little wine-fast. I love her with all my heart and I know she can do it. I know we can do it.

That said, this next week is going to be a much better one. The gym will be hit, the eating will be healthier and the head will be clear.

Stay happy and well, my friends.


P.S. Big Daddy, if you're reading, I certainly hope you don't try and skew what I've written into anything negative. I'm sure the booze fests at your house will be slightly curtailed now that Secretary is incubating, but from what I've heard, the happy juice flows pretty freely. So just don't even go there, mmmkay? And get your daughter her damn glasses, already.