I've returned to work after having enjoyed close to 2 weeks of gluttony and sloth over the Holiday break. All the red wine I could drink and plenty of ice cream - mostly Ben & Jerry's Imagine Whirled Piece (until my 5 year old son discovered he liked the chocolate peace signs and as I ate from the pint, would request I dig him out another. I never got to enjoy the creamy ice cream and the contrast of the sweet crunch from the frozen chocolatey sphere again). I read an entire book (The Story of Edgar Sawtelle - I highly recommend it and even though it's over 500 pages long, it's a surpsrisingly quick read, especially if your into dogs, which I happen to be), launched my career as a Guitar Hero in the land of Wii (completed several gigs internationally on the easy level - 3 buttons is about all I can manage) and moved around VERY LITTLE. As I wrapped up my evening last night, boiling chicken breasts and vowing to start my new life of eating well, becoming a faithful exerciser and perhaps even a vegetarian, (hadn't tried it yet - perhaps it will work on me), I carefully inspected the pantry, fridge and freezer and realized that the half gallon of gelato must be consumed or thrown away before daybreak, or my plans would be ruined, and I would fall victim to the confection taunting me from the freezer the following night. So I did what any self-resepcting yo-yo dieter would do - I ate it. All of it. It was GOOD.
Climbed the staircase to turn in for the night. My dog faithfully followed me up once all the lights were out. My husband had been asleep for about an hour, so I quietly made my way into our bathroom to see what the scale would tell me. I had spent the better part of the past 2 weeks in yogapants or jeans that I wore again and again without washing (so they would be all stretched out). I gazed in the mirror I my once flat tummy, (really and truly, I had a six pack - it was by far my BEST feature, my claim to fame, the reason I had any reason to think I was the shit WAY back then) now bulbous and prickly from 2 C-sections, an extra 10-15 pounds of college weight, 10 more from my babies, and probably a few more thanks to my Holiday antics. I step on the scale - 149 - whatever. I am numb to the number now. I dream of 130 and even maybe 120 - Christ, I'm barely 5'2" I could get down to 110 an no one would think I was too thin! Now I'm thinking, shit, a solid 140 that I could sustain for more than 5 minutes would be great!
Next I gaze in the mirror at my face. Fresh botox working on the forehead. I had tried it for the first time a little less than a week ago - the small bruise on my forehead was starting to wan, but my eyebrows looked unusually droopy - more than normal. I guess I got too much - probably won't do it again - not worth $300 that's for sure. Although I do like the absence of the 2 horizontal lines running from temple to temple, that fact that I can't make a surprised face is a little disturbing. And of course the droopy eyelids certainly don't make me look any youger. Next comes the hair that I've been growing out for about 2 years now. Used to have a very cute pixie cut. Very short, and actually not bad looking, my husband even prefers my hair short. I'm not sure if it's because he likes the way I look with short hair, or if the pixie style doesn't require 20-30 minutes locked in the bathroom with the window open (gets hot in there with the blowdryer on) lots of round brushing and flat ironing and so on. Makes showering such a chore - then I know I have to devote another 30 minutes of my life to the drying process. I guess I now realize the genius of a shower cap, yet I've never tried that - most times I just opt to skip the shower. You see I'm blessed with this semi curly hair which is so much worse than anything else. Left to air dry it just doesn't know what to do. I either need to flatten it or diffuse it - can't just leave it. Abandoning the pixie do of years past, I've convinced myself that that haristyle really only works on thin people and I needed 1 more stint of long hair, before I get to the point that my hair gets all crumbly and frizzy and unable to grow. I knew only a handful of women over 40 that have long hair where it actually looks healthy and attractive. So I come back to my reflection and realize that despite the external tug of war, (OK, now I'm just being dramatic - my husband truly likes my hair any way as long as I don't obsess and complain about it - I'm pretty sure what I'm doing now qualifies) yes, it's great that my hair is long now, but is it really flattering to my face, my overall size and shape? Not really. I think back to some old pictures of me and recall the ones I like the best. My girlfriend and I at her bachelorette party back in 1998 - I had a short-to-medium layered bob that was super cute. But I also was much thinner and didn't have all these wrinkles and sunspots on my face. So was it the haircut or something else? Who knows - probably a combination of all 3, but at this point I am so overcome by the notion that my hair is not right - I get out the scissors and start making some layers. Slight improvement. I decide to find a hairdresser tomorrow, start looking at pics online and plan the perfect haircut. That will make me look better - maybe even feel better.
I've decided there was something therapeutic about spilling my guts here. So I'm having at it. Not to mention the progress I've made on finding the perfect haircut - printed out 3 cute layered bobs (haven't booked the appt yet - most salons are closed on Mondays - very annoying) and I spent $78 online for some skincare products, one to reduce wrinkles and one to diminish sun spots. And about $25 on QVC for some super duper concealer.
No plans to exercise today, but I have eaten quite well, yogurt, some kashi cereal, water and a salad for lunch. (Would have had chicken in it if I hadn't forgetten to put the cooked chicken in the fridge last night before I went to bed) but nevermind, I'm a vegetarian now! I'll let you know how that goes!