Setback. Major setback. Make that MAJOR setback.
I’m sure that all (er, both) of my readers must be stunned to read that I fell off the P90X wagon. Not just the diet this time, but the workout schedule, too. You’re flabbergasted, right? I thought you would be. Ha. You’re probably more stunned that: (1) I made it this long; (2) I’m still bothering to write about falling off the wagon; or (3) that I even knew there was a wagon to be ON with this thing.
Well, I resent that. Slightly.
I mean, you both may have seen this coming from 30 days away (i.e. Day 1), but I did not. I knew the diet would be tough, which is precisely why I never committed to it in the first place. But I thought I had the resolve to hang in there for 90 straight days. In fact, to be quite honest, I didn’t think I had the resolve to hang in there because I never even thought about it. I never considered that I wouldn’t make it through 90 straight days.
But then Sideshow Blob’s college roommate came to visit.
. . . and this was pretty much all I saw for the entire four-day visit. Looking down on the last sip of a pint of beer, but not the last beer. The last beer would not come until late Sunday night, on the eve of Roommate’s return to Normal Life. Now, let’s be perfectly clear: I love beer. I’m quite certain this is a major contributing factor to my life-long blob-i-ness, but it’s just not something I’m willing to give up. I’ll always agree with Ben Franklin, or whoever it was:
“Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.”
But if God really loves me, and wants me to be happy, why don’t I feel happy? Why do I feel like guilty, weak, of only passing resolve, and full of blobby failure? Surely the paradox is lost on neither of you – that I drank from the hoppy chalice of God’s unending love for me, yet happiness still eludes. How can such a divine enigma be explained? Well, probably by the several details of the visit I’ve omitted.
It wasn’t just the drinks, it was also the eats.
I’ve addressed before the quandary with which I am always presented when faced with the invitation to dine out with friends. I suppose I should have included in that analysis the additional ratio which seems to be that the better the friend, the greater the implicit pressure to take on jillions of calories in an I-love-you-THIS-MUCH Blobfest. Right? Well, I guess all I really need to tell you then is that the Roommate is a VERY good friend, and we had MUCH to celebrate (er, drink. and eat. and wash down with more drinks).
In sum, Sideshow Blob and I decided to give ourselves a Mulligan on last week. Therefore, I am proud to announce that THIS week marks the beginning of Phase 2.
Here’s to new beginnings.