Lord, let me not eat cake.

I had no intention of blogging about this, but this issue has taken over my life in the last three days and so it has become unavoidable. Today, as I was reading The Nice One's post about setting some real goals for yourself and actually kicking your butt into high gear to achieve them, I found the courage to comment on her post about my personal goals. And from there, it was a short leap to writing about it on my own website. It's a simple goal, really. Totally achievable and not in any way insane.

In 11 days, Lennie's parents are taking us all to the Caribbean to celebrate their 40th wedding anniversary. It's a totally fabulous idea and I am deeply grateful to my parent-in-laws, and insanely excited to be flying away to a beach. The only thing that would have made it better was if my kids were not invited. Just kidding, kind of. I realize that would have defeated the purpose of all of us getting together, but maybe I can teach Ella to sit in the sand by my chaise lounge and hold a tray of pina coladas above her head, while Sayde and Connor each claim a foot to massage. It's worth a try.


So, anyhoo, my shockingly white flabby ass is in no way fit for public view. Passers-by may mistake me for some hapless beached beluga, the bikini might be the only thing that makes them pause before they attempt to start pushing me back into the water. (I have to give credit to my Dad for that joke. He's been using for years, as is his custom.) Seriously, I went to buy a bathing suit yesterday, and the woman who worked at the store picked out a ton of them, hung them in the dressing room, and instructed me to come out after each one so she could check the fit. "Ok, thanks!" was what I said. "No fucking way in hell," was what I thought. If I don't even have the courage to wear a bikini on the beach, how the fuck am I supposed to wear one in the mall?

I did timidly crack the door once to give Lennie a view of the final selection, a turquoise bikini with a little sparkly pin on the hip, which Sayde assured me was the prettiest one because it had "sparkles". As I crept out of the dressing room, my cheeks ablaze with self-consciousness, I asked him "Well, how is it?" Now, you would think any man who has been married for 7 1/2 years would know the answer to this question. The obvious answer is, "Wow, you look so sexy. You are the hottest woman I've ever seen, and if I didn't have this baby strapped to my chest I would ravage you right here and now." Yes, that's what the smart answer would have been. Lennie, however, likes to live life on the edge and so when I asked him his opinion, he simply replied, "meh," and was then stunned when the dressing room door abruptly slammed in his face.


So I decided to lay the smackdown on myself. No more cookies, excuses or time for slacking, I've got 10 lbs to lose by Jan 17th. Now, before you get all worried that it's too fast, it's not safe, let me first say that the slightly insane can accomplish great things.





Certainly my goal of losing 10 pounds fits right in with his theories... maybe if I try to lose weight while on the plane moving at the speed of light, it will appear to me that I've only lose 2 lbs, but when I get off the plane, I actually will have lost 20? And, everyone else on the ground will have aged a few years?? It could happen.


In order to reach my goal, I've decided to beat the shit out of myself on the treadmill. So far, in the last 2 1/2 days, I've run a total of 20.8 miles. If I can keep this pace up, that would mean somewhere around 56 miles in a week? After that, I plan on brokering a peace agreement between Israel and Palestine, and solving the world's green energy problem. I'll give you the update on how I did in the form of sticking my head into the guillotine: no matter what, I will post a picture of myself in that turquoise bikini on my blog before we leave for the beach. What better incentive could there be?