If you woke up this morning to find a stranger looking back at you, don’t panic!
Reminder: Today is the worst day of the year! No one included that in any of the 1,000 calendars I got for Christmas. It’s not a day to be celebrated. It’s a day to hide and hope you make it through! It’s the Newest of “New Me Monday’s” of the entire year! It’s the Superbowl of New You’s! I mean technically, “New You” should have emerged on January 1st. However, there is an unwritten grace period if it doesn’t fall on a Monday. That’s a thing. If you are anything like me, the person waking up today is certainly not the “New Me” of your dreams. She’s hungover, swolt and bitter that once again another version of “Me” must be labored and delivered. Le sigh. Notice I didn’t include waking up “fat” in my description? I, did not in fact wake up “fat.” For the first time in, well my entire life, I did not wake up the Monday after the holidays fat. Score. Thank you GLP1. For all the haters out there, it doesn’t carry you to the gym and do the work for you. It simply allows your brain to step away from the Ho-Ho without collateral damage. Mmmkkkay. Hate all you want. I’m down almost 40pounds in a year. Won’t no way that was happenin’ without a little GLP’n juice.
I find the Monday after whatever the fuck every day since Thanksgiving has been, shocking. I’ve basically been living in a snow globe of food, wine, parties, candy and sloth like behavior for 6 weeks. Sleeping in, skipping the gym and telling myself I “deserve” a break. And then magically on January 5th I revolutionize my entire life at the crack of dawn. How does that work exactly? Asking for a friend. I, for one, bcs I am not 2, do not wake up ready to embark on another journey down “New Me” lane. I’m grouchy, unmotivated and already willing to concede to “Try Again Tuesday.” It’s a distant cousin of “New Me Monday” designed for those of us who just need a minute. Clearly there must be a shortcut. As a Libra you would think I would crave the balance of solid habits throughout the year. Apparently, that’s not the part of being a Libra I identify with. I’m the scale. Tipped in the heavy-set direction with no hope of balance. Seriously…born under the sign of the scale? One doesn’t come back from that.
Luckily today is not a gym day for me. That’s a bit too “New Mee-ee” for any Monday in my opinion. Not to mention I am already irritated by the laundry list of things I am no longer allowed to do. That alone makes me want to drink. Yes, that’s on the naughty list as well. However, I do not participate in “Dry January.” I’m in menopause. There’s enough dryness in my life thank you. I prefer a moistness in the air when transitioning from a Sugar Crazed freak to whatever comes out of the birth canal as I welcome new me to the world. So, I’ll do what the therapist told me and try and understand why I want to drink. To be clear this is a trick question. Pick a day pick a problem. Over the holidays my reason for the season was “French Rose’.” It’s the reason for my every season. The French are just so…well fantastic. Butter, cream, shallots, wine…need I say more. I won’t give up on my French Heritage. My people are a little east of France but the more wine I drink the closer I am to a genetic mutation of some sort. Perhaps that should be my focus.
Back to the gym…bcs I’m headed there tomorrow. I gave you a day to get your shit straight. I am not excited by “New You” and the space you take up in “my” gym. I realize this is a short-term inconvenience as most of you will exit stage left around February BUT….in the meantime the queue for the exercise bike is oppressive. And NO, I don’t want to be your gym friend. Don’t ask me how long I have gone to this gym or how you can be as hot as me. Some things simply cannot be achieved. I will tell you the truth. I shoot up once a week, come to order bagels from the shop next door and ride the bike whilst they are toasting. TRUTH. So, when you keep me from the bike you are keeping me from my bagels and I can get aggressive. I do not appreciate your enthusiasm for a healthier lifestyle. We all know you’ll be knee deep in the tortilla chips at the local Mexican haunt by Friday wondering how many sets of this or that it will take to work them off. Spare me the one-night stand and get off my bike. Mmmmkkaay.
Moving on to management. The “Goal Setting” emails have started pouring in. This makes me want to change my email address post haste. Why does management assume the Monday after the caloric calamity/booze fest that has ensued over the last 6 weeks will miraculously produce an employee ripe and ready to change all her bad habits and become the employee she in fact has never been? Why? I find this more annoying than the one-night stands at the gym. This requires me to actually play along for a bit. Do real work. Fill out spreadsheets with lies of all the things I know they want to hear I have no intention of doing. Try me again in June. You know who’s behind these emails? MEN. That’s who. They go from Thanksgiving to New Years enjoying every bite of food, every drink all whilst snuggled up in their tidy homes. “We” have cooked, cleaned and concocted our way from the Pilgrims through the birth of Jesus and threw in New Years as an excuse to get wasted one last time before “Management” requires us to get “back on track.” Got news for you “We” are tired. The week after New Years should be a mandatory holiday for all women. I’ve put a call into Hallmark. If they create a card for it, I feel like we can make it happen.
Two things can be true at the same time. I can enjoy the holiday madness and also rejoice when it’s over. Even I couldn’t carry that level of gluttony past January. If I seem a bit “agitated,” I am. This is my least favorite day of the year. Yesterday I was napping, stuffing my face and drinking wine as if my life would continue this way indefinitely. Fast forward to now…I am hungry, sober and filling out spreadsheets. Stay moist my friends. It’s the only way through it.
XO
SIF