Lord a mercy, it's been a week. And the Pudgy Parson has been all about the parson part, but not so much about the Pudgy part. I've been going nonstop since last week, and my
commitment discipline has been waning. I've been watching my calories (sort of) but I haven't even looked at the ratios of food I've been eating. I don't remember how many days its been since I've had a protein shake. I've only worked out with He-who-trains once (but as a recall, my arms were jello by time he left. It was a holy mess of effort to make my arms work together well enough so that I could put my work clothes on.) I'm longingly looking at Fudge Covered Oreos when I pass them in the store ( You know, because a sugar sandwich isn't enough-- we should cover it in Fudge too. At least I'm still passing them by...) I'm tired and grouchy. My heart rate is back to staying way too high. I've been running on the verge of dehydration for a week. And I'm frustrated because, this is the time when I do this every year. The time when self-care becomes so low a priority that I sabbotage myself and inevitably get sick. The time that makes me have to repent and start again after Christmas. (Here's what I wrote last year about this same.dang.struggle.)
This season started out so much better-- I had hopes that I wouldn't fall prey to the same patterns. Maybe I just need to get in a good workout. Maybe I need to make myself start sending food logs to He-who-trains again (because that look is enough to scare me straight.) Maybe I need to get the "Eat Crap, Feel Like Crap" lecture again.
Or maybe I just need to let some things go and quit pretending that I'm superwoman. Maybe it's not too many commitments and worship services and to-dos that ruin me this time of year. Maybe it's thinking that I'm superwoman, who should be able to juggle all these things gracefully. If I could get myself one gift for Christmas, it would be a reminder to let myself be who I am, not who I want everyone to think I am. It would be something that would remind me that taking care of myself is more important than setting a pretty Christmas table in a perfectly clean house, next to a tree with delightfully wrapped (and homemade) presents.
On the upside, I'm seeing progress. In just shy of two weeks, I lost 2.5 inches from my waist alone. Maybe that will be enough to help me hold on to my motivation until the real Pudgy Parson surfaces again. (This tired, apathetic person writing under the Pudgy Parson's name is not the Pudgy Parson. The Pudgy Parson is a conquering rockstar sort of person.)