Week 3 should be entitled midlife crisis.
I had a major emotional meltdown, then I got a tattoo, then the kid and I applied for passports and planned a vacation.
I met someone. I planned on him being a distraction. Someone to not necessarily rebound with, but to kinda rebound with. I imagined we would hang out, have some dates, and become friends. Easy enough. He’s cute. He’s charming. HE’S ATTENTIVE. This could work.
Then the plan broke. Turns out, I like him more than friends like friends. This is substantial. He’s a big deal.
So what do I do? I run from it all. I stop taking my supplements, head to my neighborhood tattoo and piercing shop, and top it all off with Tex-Mex. I avoid all my feelings and my health.
“Pass me the queso. And excuse me ma’am, we’re gonna need more chips.”
End of week 3, the scale claims I put my weight back on plus a pound. It’s probably broken. We never see eye to eye.
I have a massive, by my standards, tattoo on my forearm. It’s perfect and beautiful though. And, I’m trying to figure out how to tame my rouge feelings.
I’m annoyed, and I’m frustrated with myself for starting this blog topic. Can I just go delete them all? No do-overs, huh? Ugh!
So midweek week 4, I ended my pity party. I sent all the party goers home. I threw away the new misery cookies and laid out the plan and supplements to get back on track. I can do this.