I thought a lot about what my plan to survive this holiday would be. What would my goal be? Why was I doing this? Why is it important to me? What would be my motivation?
I kept going back to a seminar I attended last week for work. The seminar was not about weight loss, diets, exercise, or anything even closely related. It was about people, managing people, selling to people, following people. Everything comes down to the one fact. This world is run by people. Not companies. Not government. Not brands. People. So what does that have to do with my holiday survival, my goals, my motivation?
I am by all accounts a human person. I am irrational and make decisions based on my emotions. I don’t screw up on purpose. I have to give myself permission to be a person. I have to accept that my emotions will kick in and do one of two things : take me straight to that chocolate or push me harder to work out. I must plan on the simple truth that I am human.
What is my goal? The robot side of me says that I want to be healthy and fit, but the human side knows… I want to be thin. I want to be faster. I don’t want to get out on first. I want to catch the football. I want to look hot in a black dress. My goal is simple, I want to be a size 10 by new year. I want to take my 10:1 time from 5:43 to 3:30. The benefits that are more than emotion are icing on the skinny and athletic cake.
Why am I doing this? The robot side says because it decreases my chances of heart disease. Or because drinking proper amounts of water can help decrease free radicals and my chances of cancer. The human side, because I’m much more competitive than I’d like to admit. I’m tired of finishing second, third, or last. I want the glory. I want the compliments. I want to share something amazing. I want to satisfy the vanity sin.
Why is it important to me? The robot keeps going back to the health benefits, but the human… The competition, the vanity, the athletics, the jeans, the little black dress. Most of all, the story to tell. I am my father. I have a story to tell. He didn’t get to tell his, I get to tell mine. I don’t want to tell the story of a girl that finished second, I want to tell the story of a girl that competed and won. Even if the only person I’m competing against is myself.
What would be my motivation? And here in lies the truth of the heart. Raise your hand if you watched Sex in the City. No one is looking, don’t lie and raise those hands high. There was the episode, “the real me,” when Samantha gets photographed nude. She says that her body will only look like this for a certain time, she’s going to remember it. I am not going to audition for playboy, but, I will be brave enough to get photos done without the baggy shirts and towels over swimsuits. It will be amazing.
With that, my plan to beast mode through the holiday had to be made and it starts with music.
The rest of the plan is on its way in t-minus 60 minutes. Here goes everything.
Lifetimes of paper rainbows…W