I’m probably the most unhealthy I’ve been since I lost weight almost four years ago.
I’ve had more beer + alcoholic libations as of late than the past six months combined.
My vegetable consumption is pathetically paltry.
I’ve neglected to take the much-needed time for myself to relax and release life’s daily tensions.
My ever-crazy schedule is ever-crazier, mostly out of my own doing.
I’ve exercised maybe 10 times in the past two months.
My mostly vegetarian diet has been replaced with copious amounts of carnivorous meat.
That would be one Luau Blucy from The Blue Door Pub.
It’s a ginormous burger filled with mozzarella cheese + Canadian bacon.
And topped with pineapple rings + Thai sweet chili sauce.
And I am completely okay with it.
Six months ago, I would have freaked out about my current predicament. My health-conscious monkey mind would have jumped to the far-fetched conclusion I would immediately gain 20 pounds, turn into some ugly, unattractive beast and no guy would ever want to date me.
Talk about self-esteem issues.
Somehow, in the past 180 days or so, I’ve begun to find self-acceptance.
I can’t pinpoint a specific “Aha!” moment a la Oprah where I started to realize this notion of constant perfection is silly. That eating sugar cookies, peanut brittle and fried cheese curds all in one day won’t kill me. That sometimes I need to cut myself some serious slack. That being unhealthy can actually one of the healthiest things I do for myself.
Over these last few unhealthy months, I’ve finally been able to accept that I am who I am; this is who I will continue to be; and actually, I kind of like me. For the first time in a long time, I’ve been able to eat, drink and be merry without counting calories, obsessing about it for days and berating myself with negative fat talk.
I can’t even tell you how freeing that is.
It allows me to drink beer, eat big ol’ hamburgers and enjoy time with friends like Angharad – who cares if it’s noon on a Sunday?
And guess what?
I haven’t gained weight. In fact, I’ve lost weight. Almost five pounds of muscle to be exact.
My blood pressure remains a healthy 90/60.
Yes, my physical fitness is severely lacking, and I have severe smoker’s hack within five minutes of running on the treadmill, but that’s nothing a couple weeks of exercising can’t fix.
I can amp up my workouts, slather on some make-up and go blonde. Those are easy fixes that make me feel good when I look in the mirror. The important thing I’ve discovered is to just try and live in the moment.
Happiness will follow.
That’s not to say I won’t hit the gym hard post-Christmas.
And I’ll enjoy it.
It’s my stress relief, my sanity and gives me the freakish amount of energy I have on a daily basis. Think the Energizer Bunny on 5-Hour Energy after slamming two Diet Cokes.
Life gets crazy.
Life is also short.
But never too crazy or too short not to drink beer with a good friend on a Sunday afternoon.