My Own Personal Cheerleader

I was reading a post on 263 and Counting about self-sabotage, and it got me thinking. I am my own worst enemy. The way I talk to myself? I would never, ever talk that way to anyone else! I would never be so rude and degrading.

Why do I do it to myself? Why do I pretend it's okay to put myself down? To call myself cruel and hurtful things? Why do I find it acceptable to verbally abuse myself?

Honestly, I have no idea why. I'm sure some psychologist could find some deep seated issues from my childhood...

But that's not really the point. The point is:

It is NOT okay.

At all.

Ever.

If someone else says something offensive to me, I am quick to defend myself. I am not the type of person to take bull shit lying down.

I have to do this for myself too! I deserve it.

Which brings me to another point. It's almost horrifying how little I believe in myself. Just typing those words "I deserve it" was actually hard for me. I don't think I actually believe those words. I don't know when it happened, but I've stopped even believing that I have the right to healthy and happy.

And you know what? That is utter bull shit.

I don't know how many of you out there are the same way - but we have got to stop this! If I don't believe I deserve to lose weight, how in the hell is it ever going to become a reality?

I need to become my own personal cheerleader. Because as fucking wonderful as you all are, if I don't root for myself it doesn't matter what anyone else says.

So, I say - GO M.T.!!!

 RAH! RAH! RAH!

Life Is Too Short

...to wait for some magical number on the scale before having amazing kitchen counter sex.

Oh YES, yes she did...

Just sayin'.

I'm Tired Of Being A Wagon

Last night, while scanning through a book of mine [42 Rules For Working Moms, if you are curious], I came across a chapter that touched on taking care of yourself. It said to imagine yourself as a fast sports car. If you tune a sports car right, put good gas in it, and take care of it, the performance will increase. I was totally following the point they were trying to make, but for some reason no matter how I tried, I couldn't imagine myself as a sleek sports car.

I think [unfortunately] that I'm a wagon. When the fuck did I become a wagon?!?!?!?! Pretty sure I'm not frumpy enough to be considered a minivan. No way. I'm definitely not a huge SUV either, but I have to be frank when I say I'm definitely not a compact car at this point. I think I'm a wagon.

How depressing. Wagons are functional and reliable and safe, but nobody gets excited to drive the wagon. Nobody stands back and appreciates the wagon as it drives by. Not even if it's a pretty, new wagon. Some things in life just aren't esthetically pleasing, you know??? Nor are some cars fast and lithe. Some cars will always be mediocre, no matter how well they do their job.

She might haul the kids around, but that's about it.

Well FUCK THAT. I'm tired of being the damn Subaru. I want to be a sports car. I want people to stare when I go by. I promise I'm not delusional. I may never get to Ferrari status, but would it be too much to ask to be a Camaro? Maybe even a Corvette???

Now THIS is a sexy car.

It may not be next week, or even next month, but one day I'm going to wake up and realize I'm no longer the grocery getter. One day I'm going to realize I've lost the back seat and allllll that junk in the trunk. I can't freaking wait.