So, I started a fad diet. A friend of mine talked me into it. I like her a great deal. She’s one of my favorite people. My husband calls it a pyramid scheme. And I’m not sure if he’s right because I’m not actually sure what it is I’m doing. But I am going to try it for 21 days and see how things shake up. But just to make sure I don’t unwittingly end up spending hundreds of dollars on plastic containers and shakes, I set an alert for August 30th that reads:
CANCEL FUCKING BEACHBODY.
Yeah. It’s that Shakeology thing. You know, the one where middle-aged suburban women in yoga gear walk around with plastic Shakeology cups. They discuss portion control, whole grains, good fats (that’s fats, not farts, all farts are good), workouts and waistlines. That’s me. Only I don’t have a waistline and I don’t yet own any yoga gear. Also: I like cheese and I don’t think it’s a good fat.
I broke two toes on Sunday night, ironically mere hours before my 21 Day workout was set to begin. I fell down the last few steps heading to the kitchen to get something for a screaming Walter (night terrors). It was kind of funny. And I didn’t really care at the time because it was 2 in the morning, and Murray had come home a few hours earlier. So I was happy. I did say the work “fuck” a lot which apparently woke my 9-year-old and he was not too pleased because he hates bad words. I apologized a lot for that the following morning. Sometimes I have a potty mouth.
Anyway, here is my foot. It’s gross even when it’s not broken. But I am a runner so I don’t give a shit. Feet aren’t meant to be pretty.
But it hurt. It still hurts. And I can’t run.
But I did start the diet and the workout, with some modifications because I can’t jump too much. After 30 minutes of that work out I wanted to punch the shit out of people. The word “fuck” doesn’t come close to what was going on in my head. “Lunge” is another word for “I’m going to murder someone” and “burpee” may rhyme with “slurpee” but they are not nearly as fun as they sound.
(Sorry, Em, for all the bad words.)
So, that’s where I am. I’m in a much better place than I was a few days ago. I started taking antidepressants a couple of months ago and then my doctor upped my dose recently and I think that’s helping. After years of saying I would never go that route, I decided it was time. I needed some help. No shame in that. You see, when I’m up, things are fabulous and I am pretty sure I can conquer the world. I feel indestructible. But when I am not up? I feel like there is absolutely no reason to do anything; complete anything; start anything; finish anything. I just want to watch Netflix, drink wine and wait until what? I don’t even know.
Right now, I’m up.
Sunday, I was not up.
I will continue to write here and share my thoughts and what I’m doing to try and make myself a better, more likable person. I hope that you will stick around and share your thoughts as well. Because over the years your comments and emails have meant the world to me. As I navigate growing older, and try and accept the fact that I can’t change who I am or go back in time, I will try and make my route a public one.
You can’t be what you were
So you better start being
just what you are
You can’t be what you were
the time is now is running out
is running out
is running running running out
You can’t be what you were
So you better start living the life
That you’re talking about
You can’t be what you were
Thank you for reading.
Mihow 
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