Princess and I recently had our picture taken, not professionally, just one of those random shots you take on a day trip. There we are too chunky, short, round faced ... ugh. Princess being who she is immediately layed down the law and decided the entire household (excluding Ophelia who doesn't listen to anybody) was going on a diet. This pronouncement was followed by the creation of three charts (me, her and even poor Papa Bear was dragged into the plan) complete with dates, weights and measurements. The goal is a 50 pound weight loss by December third.
I won't disagree that a weight loss is in order, a girl can't live on pepsi and cigarettes forever. And that isn't really even what this blog is about today. It is the discovery through this weight management plan, that my life is totally out of control. I was looking for an hour to fit in exercise. As a list maker, this hunt started with a list of everything I do: Day job, editor job, writing time, writers group time, pet care (dog, cats and fish), yard work, house work, Prof.squared work, night meetings (council, arts council and writers... narrowed considerably from a year ago), laundry, friends and family, appointments with doctors, dentists and hairdressers. I imagine this list is not so dissimilar from any woman's list. I logged all this nonsense onto a spreadsheet and as I was bemoaning the fact that I don't have nearly enough time to write, I thought about how easy it is to put that one most important thing always on the back burner. Since being a published writer is the sparkling dream that hovers in front of me like a carrot in front of a mule, I believe it's time to truly examine why I consistently let everything get in the way of pursuing that goal.
It's late, and soul searching is required to find an answer. Tomorrow I start my new life in pursuit of better health and fitness. I'll think about it while I'm trudging to the day job instead of driving my car.