January 8, 2010
Every year I make a New years Resolution to not be one of those people who makes a New Years Resolution, because we all know that nobody ever keeps them anyway. They tell every Tom, Dick and Harry that they are going to lose weight, stop smoking, quit biting their toenails etc…, and Tom, Dick and Harry are like “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Never gonna happen.” And 9 times out of 10 the boys are right. But this year I thought that maybe it would be a good thing if I made some resolutions on this blog, that way you can all keep an eye on me and make sure that I am following them. I am not completely sure that this will work, because I really have no shame and could care less if I fail in front of people, but hey, it’s worth a try!
I would like to lose 10 pounds, even though I swear to Pete that as I type this I have chocolate icing on my fingers from the Hostess Cupcake I just crammed down my throat. Does it help that it is a Hostess 100 Calorie Pack?
I would also like to tone up my flabby bod. Since Ethan is almost 9, I can no longer use the “I had a baby” excuse, although technically it is true since I did indeed have a baby (in 2001). Those little whine bags ruin your body. That’s a fact. They never apologize for it either. In a related story: A few years ago Steve and I went away for a spa weekend. I had a full 8 hour day of treatments, for which I requested all females. So anyway, I had all women until the final treatment of the day, which was a 90 minute body scrub. Not only did I have a dude for this, but it was a college boy who was cute. For those of you who have never had a body scrub, let me tell you about it: You are nude, in a well-lit room, on a table. When you are on your back, there is a tiny washcloth on your girls, and one on your cha-cha. When you are on your stomach, there is a washcloth on your crack. That is all the coverage you get. Then, for 90 minutes the cute boy scrubs every inch of your body with scrubbing salts, lotions, rinses, repeats. Some of these salts go into your “areas” and he has to hose them out with a special attachment. As you can imagine, this entire process was less than relaxing due to the fact that I held my muscles as tightly as I could to make myself look more firm. When he asked about my life, I told him I had 5 kids, including a newborn, because although my body may be pretty sad for a mother of one, it rocks for a mother of five.
I want to become a runner. Nothing fancy. No marathons or anything, just a very short distance runner for exercise purposes. When I saw those Biggest Loser people run a full marathon it made me feel like a lazy piece of crap, so I have joined a beginners running group. Although we are told we will be able to run 3 straight miles in 2 months, I just don’t see it happening. I was the girl in Junior High who dove into the woods at the beginning of our gym class run, and jumped back out to blend in at the end. I know that some of my long-time readers are in shock at the news of my running. If you are not, you can go to my archives and read “The One About Running” from September of 2009, where I made the following statement: “I don’t believe in running. In fact, I am fundamentally opposed to it. It is against my religion. I am pretty sure it causes cataracts or diarrhea. The only time I condone running, is if something really badass is chasing you. Even then, I prefer the strategy of ‘playing dead’ instead of running. If it works against big scary bears, I am sure it will work against a mugger.” Yep…I said that. And I am still fairly certain that I would run much better if instead of running alongside us and cheering us on, our instructor would run after us with a big knife, screaming psychotic phrases like “Ima cut you, bitches!”
I am going to try to stop thinking about Paul Rudd so much. It can’t be healthy, and I think that my husband may be getting just a tad sick of it. It will definitely be hard. Just look at him:
I would like to start remembering to take my grocery lists with me when I go to the grocery store, as I am positive that it would not only save me from going back to the store 5 times per week, but would also save me money. On this same topic, I would like to start making it home with everything that I purchase, since I usually come home missing at least 1-3 items that I paid for, and often the answer to Steve’s question “What’s for dinner?” is “Well, it was gonna be Thai Chicken night, but somehow I lost the chicken.”
I would like to move up to “Hard” on Rock Band. I know, I know, it’s a big dream. I’m probably more likely to lose the 10 pounds, or stop thinking about Paul Rudd.
I would like to fix the part of my brain that makes me start talking about inappropriate things when there is a lull in the conversation. I have shared lots of things with lots of people that were maybe not such a good idea. Does my cable guy need to know about my irregular menstrual cycle? Probably not.
I would also like to fix the part of my brain that tells me to beat the crap out of Steve when he wakes me up with his snoring at night. No matter how good it would feel to teach that snorer a lesson, truth be told, a gentle tap will suffice.
I would like to stop singing the Miley Cyrus song “Party in the USA.” I really, really want to stop, but I just keep noddin’ my head like “yeah” and movin’ my hips like “yeah.”
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