When I Lose Weight I'll...

Roni has a great post up today.  And since I'm all about real life and brutal truth now, I can confidently say I've repeated those same statements (and many, many more), over and over like a mantra, every gosh-darn day for the last five to seven years.

When I lose weight I'll...

... not be so embarrassed for my husband when we go out in public together.

... have a prettier face because my jowls will have disappeared.

... be able to jog on suburban streets without people driving past and thinking - or worse, yelling - 'Give up, ya fat cow!' (true story)

... be able to join a gym because a high percentage of people who go there are super-hot and right now I'm a lump of bread dough.

... not feel so self-conscious ordering a salad for lunch because even though I'm fat, I don't like people knowing it bothers me.

... enter that fun run (as a walker), even though I can walk it just fine now, because I'm too self-conscious around all the uber-fit people.

... have righteously good sex every time without worrying about jiggling and dangling and other embarrassing 'big girl' body issues.

The quote Roni included to end her post - and I hope she doesn't mind me reposting it here - was a freakin' excellent example of the attitude I battle with most days.

For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin – real life.  But there was always some obstacle in the way.  Something to be got through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid.  Then life would begin.  At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life.  ~Fr. Alfred D’Souza

How many times have I 'waited until Monday' - metaphorically and in reality - in my life (and not just with the weight either)?  How many 'last suppers'?  How many mistakes with food, with life, with love? I'll 'start eating better' on Monday.  I'll play that board game with the kids tomorrow.  I'll do something with that writing diploma next year.  When the kids are older.  When DH is more settled at work.  When I've got a handle on the clutter magnet that is this house.  When we have more money.  When we have more time.

Or, in the case of my weight - will it be when I'm 55, lying dead on the floor from a heart attack, just like my mother? Cursing the fact I didn't just shove the obstacles out of the way when it came to looking after myself?

Wow.  I think the internet just owned me.