Uh oh. My one sure source of daily exercise just departed... Now I'm faced with a problem. What’s Plan B?
Uhhh...
For clarity, since you may not know, my boss abandoned us (“us”
being her team, not the Royal us).
Well, okay. She didn’t really abandon us, but it sounds more
dramatic and pithier than the real excuse: She left the company to move to a
different state because her husband was offered a job he couldn’t refuse.
See? That’s all long and wordy and kinda boring. It’s like
the Every-Boss Syndrome. Which isn’t really a Syndrome but it could be because
we all get abandoned by a boss we like and admire at least once or twice in our
working lifetime.
In the aftermath, we’ve been restructured. Chess pieces have
moved and we have a new reporting structure. I’m no longer associated with the
group with which I was associated. I’ve been re-associated. Beyond that, the
daily ‘huddle’ I had attended every weekday for the past year plus is one of
the first casualties. That means I have no valid excuse to walk down the street
to the other building and back at least once per day. It’s only a quarter of a
mile, but it’s a quarter of a mile that made me more active than I would be
otherwise.
Rats. I can already feel the spread...
Now I have to come up with a self-motivating Plan B and I am
terrible at self-motivating Plan Bs.
It’s why I never paid for a gym membership, even when everyone else did. It’s
why I have such trouble losing weight and keeping it off. Plan A is always so
much easier, so much more fun.
I guess this will be like anything else. Just take it one
day at a time and put one foot in front of the other. I’ll set my calendar to
remind me to walk. Maybe twenty or thirty minutes each lunch hour would do it.
At least then I can get out, get some fresh air and now that the weather is showing
signs of cooling off, I won’t get back here a sweaty-sticky mess at the end of
it.
Yeah, I know that’s not a pretty picture, but it’s real. I
mean, I do not come back from doing anything looking perfectly coiffed and put
together. I just don’t. After all, I’m a people not a model and I don’t have
staff chasing after me with the brushes, and spray and... Even in the morning,
right after my shower, I don’t do anything with my hair but shake it around a
bit, fluff it up with my fingers and let it dry. It’s one of the reasons I keep
it short (most of the time). Given that, I will say that I’m lucky. It’s naturally
wavy and thick so it usually behaves pretty well even with minimal fuss.
But the timing of this is bad. It’s really not good kind of
bad.
See, my daughter is getting married on Saturday. I’m
supposed to look good for her wedding and I don’t know how to look good. I
never have.
I have a dress, which is a step in the right direction. It’s
a nice dress - not fancy or frilly or anything, but I don’t do fancy or frilly
very well. I’ll make a few changes to it and make it “mine”. She’ll do my
makeup, to which I’ll resign myself (I hate makeup) and I won’t even rub it
off. I have my shoes picked out - two pair depending on a variety of factors -
and I’ll be prepared with a change of clothes in the car since it’s going to be
very casual and at the coast at a campground. At the earliest moment possible,
I’ll change into normal clothes and get back to being myself.
No matter because, with all of that, I’m actually looking at
myself in the mirror these days. I don’t normally do that. I normally avoid
doing that. Because I am doing that, I am NOT happy with what I see.
Neck up looks good. It looks like me, the way I look every
day. Shoulders down... that is not me. Uh huh. No way is that body mine. I don’t know whose it is, but it sure as
shootin’ isn’t mine.
It’s... Dammit, it’s old.
I am not old. Sigh. Maybe I should
have paid more attention before now.
I won’t even bother asking the question, “Honey? Does this
make me look fat?” because then I would be obligated to give you the answer: “Yes,
dear, I’m afraid it does.” Heck, at this point a four-person tent would look
better.
Well. It’s one day. A few hours. She’ll be so thrilled with
her party and new hubby and all that she probably won’t even really notice me,
so that’ll be good. I’ll hide in the herd for the pictures - avoid at all cost
being singled out - and exercise the stomach muscles (what’s left of them) if I
am caught away from the group.
So, I’m going to go devise my Self-Motivating Plan B and see
if I can make it stick. I’ll set my calendar reminder and get myself out of the
office and down the street every day this week. It probably won’t make much of
a difference come Saturday, but it can’t hurt. Well, not unless I trip on a
curb and twist an ankle or something.
Besides, I suspect I’ll feel better about myself if I do it.
Maybe that’s the secret. Self-motivate by telling myself that I’ll feel better.
Heck! Maybe I can walk off some of the old along the way. I think it’s worth a
try.
Okay. Decision made and I’m going to get started. I hope you
have a lovely day!
Best~
Philippa
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories
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