For Wendie

OK, so my friend Wendie reminded me today that I need to update this blog. She actually said it in a way that did not include "you are wasting your time here" which is a step forward, so in her honor, here I am. I am even giving up watching Bret Michaels Rock of Love to do this, so Wendie, if you are reading, you should feel pretty special indeed.

I actually can't believe that 5 months have passed without this being updated. It unfortunately confirms one of my character flaws, which is to start something with good intentions only to see it fall by the wayside in the midst of all the other things that suck at my time.

And so with this update, I am committing to try and change this habit, and in more than one way.

Last week, I decided to do the Danskin tri-athlon in August.

Those of you who know me, or have just even seen me lately, are probably either laughing, or scratching your head in disbelief, or some combination of the above. Go ahead, because believe me, I've done the same thing.

In all seriousness, I need to do something. I am not the semi-svelte teenager I used to be. I can blame the extra weight on having kids (because truly, that's how it arrived) but I can only blame its ongoing existence on bad habits. And since I'm 40 now, and since no matter how many times I do an "I Dream of Jeannie" blink or wish upon a star, and go to bed hoping that in the morning, all the extra weight will mysteriously and miraculously melt away - none of that is going to happen.

Besides the fact that I am now committed to this event, there are several reasons why I need to lose this weight:

• when I run, things jiggle in the front AND the back. I don't think anyone actually makes an ass-bra, but there is probably a market for it.
• I work at a place where seriously 98% of the population is fit and trim. I'm talking people riding mini Tour de France races at lunchtime, a candy machine where the candy actually expires, and people jogging from building to building for meetings. I sorta stick out like a sore thumb.
• I want cuter clothes. Chubby girl clothes only get more hideous the older you get.
• I want to be proud to post my current picture on Facebook, and not hide behind a head shot or a picture of me at age 4. How come most of the girls from high school look exactly the same? At this point, I'd rather let them look me up in the old yearbook and remember fondly how cute I used to be and how I rocked the pegged jeans in the late '80s.

But honestly, besides the semi-funny reasons above, and the all too serious reasons (like for my health), I want my kids, especially my daughters, to see their mom set a goal and stick to it. I want them to see me cross that finish line, even if I have to drag myself across, crying my eyes out like a big ole baby. WHICH, is a high probability....I'm just sayin'.

Tonight started the Routine. The Routine is my plan of attack to be able to be in fighting shape by August. It's a combo of run/walk, biking and swimming, with set goals and milestones along the way.

The Routine will require that I purchase AND wear a bathing suit. In front of other people. More than once.

The Routine will require that I learn to run the entire time and not walk at all, which will mean I need to work through the shooting pain in my shins and try not to fall on my face.

The Routine means I actually have to get on the bike that up 'til now has just been a holder for my bike helmet.

The Routine will necessitate that I stop breathing through my mouth when I try to run.

The Routine is guaranteed to make me cranky, sore and exhausted. And will probably do the same to my poor family, who will have to live with me.

I started tonight by running/walking the block around my house. I do this under the cover of dark so none of my neighbors can see me run (see bullet point 1 above). Unfortunately my new neighbor did catch me, but was nice enough to cheer me on rather than comment on the sorry state of my less than graceful running. I love my new neighbor.

And who knows, maybe at the end of all this, I'll be able to fit into some kicky kitschy Carol Brady pantsuit. For Halloween of course, not to wear around the house (hee hee, well, not often around the house).

Wish me luck. I will need it.

Finally, for those of you who tune in here solely to read a funny kid story, I'll leave you with this:

This weekend, after being cooped up in our house for what feels like 6 months, we took a little day trip over to Bremerton. We brought along the twins' best friend and his brother, and all the kids had a great time, eating Belgian frites (look it up) and throwing rocks in the water. At one point, Hannah sits down cross legged (AKA Indian style, which is what we called it pre-politically correct) and assumes a yoga position, complete (replete?) with fingers positioned up in the air and eyes closed. She starts "oh"ming - you know, "ohmmmm" "ohmmmm," as all good yoga-ers do. When she realizes that the other kids are not participating, she stops, opens her eyes and says "GUYS! I'm doing my ohms right now, I really need you to be quiet. NOw, if you want to sit down and ohm with me, fine. But I need quiet."

And there you have it. I am now returning to the conclusion of Bret Michaels Rock of Love, so I can see which strip-testant is voted off this week.

Peace out!