Sunday, May 13, 2012

Operation: Makeover Mom

The bathroom is my thinking chamber; it is where I go to ponder problems and summon solutions. Sometimes this type of thinking happens subconsciously.

(Side note: It's Mother's Day. While I was in the bathroom, my oldest kid closed my bedroom door. Now, as I type this, the scent of something singeing in the kitchen wafts under the door and disturbs my nose. It smells of burnt popcorn but that can't be it; I guess they're making breakfast.)

As I conducted my business in the bathroom, a few thoughts pinged around my head. 1) It is awesome how God can stretch time; I went to sleep around 2 and woke up at 8:30, yet I had really awesome dreams and feel rested. 2) I will not text my ex. My thank you for his Mother's Day wish (which I think was a general text to all the moms in his phone) needs to be enough communication. I tend to want to write dissertations in my messages so keeping it short is killing me. 3) My dream of my ex (2nd one in a row) pointed out he isn't ready for me or QoMV material. 4) My boys need a dad. 5) It's time for a Mom Makeover.

Those first three thoughts flitted by at the speed of a blink. Those last two thoughts, however, were, apparently, applied with double-sided sticky tape. A Mom Makeover. My mind quickly filled in the details: acrylic nails, pedicures, long weave, daily workouts, makeup, heels-- all the things that say woman to a man.

Before I could even shudder and dismiss the idea, the fact entered my mind about men being visual creatures. I may be all about taking a spiritual journey through my hair but the rest of me still isn't in order. (Wait. My boys are knocking on the door. Awww...they made me breakfast [waffles and eggs] and a card. See pix.) I'm still carrying around an additional 20lbs from last year, 20lbs, which I had lost by this time last year and found when I reentered the classroom (see my other post on the health hazards of teaching).

Anyway, back to the topic of this post: Mommy's Manhunt Makeover.

My foot is nearly healed; it's the best I've felt in a long while. Wearing nothing but heels or the walking boot these last  three weeks has really helped. I'm estimating another 2-3 weeks with the addition of a little self-therapy should really set me back to right. I won't pick up with running right away but I'm eager to get my walking on. And what's really spurring me forward is the fact that I've done this before; I've lost weight, INCHES off my waist in the span of three months just by walking. And I'm excited about having the opportunity to do that again. Fantastically excited about it. Zealously exuberant about it. I'm foaming at the mouth and chomping at the bit like a racehorse at the starting line.

But I'm not there yet; I still have some pain. So I have to (impatiently) bide my time.

I'm turning 33 next month. If I'm to have the life I envisioned a few years ago, then I've got to get on the ball. Why the rush? I've just decided that I do want more kids; I want my daughter. Again, 33 is right around the corner; the eggs are getting dusty and my mind might change again. Still, I'm on time with the vision-- we were relaxing on the beach; my boys were teens playing football in the water. My oldest turns 16 this year and my youngest turns 13; my youngest was a smidgeon older in the vision. So I've got time. But, still, I need to align myself so that I'll be in place mentally, spiritually, and physically to meet the man in the vision.

Ooh, excited once again.


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