Confessions of a Diet Coke drinker
Posted by African Press International on July 24, 2009
I quit. I give up. Aint nothing ever good enough for anybody else..it seems. These words are not my own. The famous Edie Brickell lamented them on her album ghost of a dog. Which I probably havent heard in over a decade. But I still remember them. Can hear them actually. Ever feel that way? Me too.
Though today i am feeling that way in relationship to myself. In a happy sort of way. And I dont give a shit, give myself the middle finger and step on the gas sort of way. Cackling, smoking a cigarette with my windows down.
But alas, I did not do that. I, 31 year old me, went to bed on time. Got my 8.5 hours, ate a whole grain breakfast, went to class prepared, ran 6 miles, lifted weights, had a salad for lunch and wore my seat belt home. Good girl.
Sometimes, I have to remember to not take myself so seriously.
I have to remember that although at this age I have (finally) learned that hangovers suck, having an extra glass of wine can be fabulous. cathartic. that sometimes letting the F bomb fly really does make it feel better. that skipping a workout or two wont diminish my fitness but that it could enhance my life. that time away from my children makes time with them that much richer. and that a diet coke at lunch or high fructose in my dessert wont kill me.
I can drone on all day about the politics of food. health. exercise. participation whatever.
But not today. today, with my finger held high I am off the hook.
Literally.
source.67percent’sblog.30Jun09
