Too much celebrating

It’s so easy to go off the track, isn’t it?

I was insistent—to myself, at least—that I wouldn’t let the holidays rattle me. It wasn’t a big event, just a gradual chipping away of routine until I feel like I’m mired in a mud puddle.

The only person who can get me back on track is me, so that’s what I’ll do. I’m so cold in the morning that I hate drinking an icy protein shake. Recently I read some instructions for making a warm shake, so I’m going to try that.

I still haven’t gotten to the gym. I did get the necessary headphones, shoes and water bottle, but I can’t find any shorts that fit. Believe me, no one wants to see me on the elliptical with my pants around my ankles. I know there must be some shorts SOMEWHERE in the mess I call my bedroom.

My recent time-suck has been planning my daughter’s birthday. She turned 19 on Sunday. We celebrated with a trip to Marukai, a Japanese market in Gardena—her choice. It was like visiting another country. My daughter bought a flavor of Pepsi she drank in Japan last summer: strawberry cream. We topped it off with dinner at an Italian restaurant in Fullerton that I dined at in college, when I was her age.

Celebrating her birthday reminded me of my pregnancy. I weighed about 30 pounds more than I do now, and developed gestational diabetes, which meant I had to check my blood 4 times a day and take insulin shots twice daily. And this was before we had insulin pens with tiny needles. Because of the diabetes, I had to follow a strict diet, similar to early Weight Watchers. After a few months of gaining weight, I gained nothing more during the remaining 7 months. After I got home from the hospital, I discovered I had lost about 40 pounds. My glee was short-lasting, because I discovered triple-chocolate muffins from a local supermarket and would eat one, sometimes two a day. Only later did I realize those suckers had about 800 calories each.  Serving size, one-half muffin. Right.

See you next time.