Five days off work, plus two weekends equals 9 days in a row of over-indulgent ME-time! Some people travel. Others reconnect with nature or family. I like to choose a theme. This week the theme was Decluttering. If you know me at all, you will know that anything worth doing is worth making a list:
Items that need decluttering include:
- Table Linens
- Entertainment center
- Undergarments and socks
- Cleaning closet
- Pet supplies
- Beauty and health products
As you can see, I have my work cut out for me. I decided to start with the books. Three boxes have been patiently waiting for their trip to the Half-Price Bookstore for several years, so this was an easy beginning. I dusted them off, trying hard not to fall back in love with any of them in the process. I only rescued two. One was a trail-guide to trees, which I’ve actually searched for twice this year.
“Oh, hey . . . HERE you are!”
The other was my How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk book. I can’t believe I was going to give away the all-time best book on communication EVER. What was I thinking?
Because today is a beautiful sunny day, I dressed in a lightweight t-shirt. I checked twice to make sure you couldn’t see the dark-colored bra underneath, finally deciding it was only visible if you were staring at my chest. At my age, I can only hope for so much! My brushed hair fell in soft waves along my shoulders. With my cheeks blushed, eyelashes curled, I looked in the mirror.
“Hello, beautiful! Looking good!”
On the way out, I grabbed another stack of recyclables harvested from craft supplies and patterns, and a sack of trashed junk from the basement. Both the trash bin and the recycle bin are nearly full, and the garbage pick-up was yesterday! My step lightened as I went back in to grab the latest box of culled books.
“Wow! How much does this bad boy weigh?”
I stepped on the scale with and without the box. It weighed in at around 38 pounds. No wonder I was looking so great this morning. I’ve lost a lot of weight!
Balancing the box against the store window while pulling the door open, I looked down. The weighty box stretched my shirt, revealing not only my plentiful cleavage, but the black brassiere I had carefully checked for show-through. I released the door and hauled up on the neckline of my t-shirt. A chivalrous employee ran from inside to hold the door. Hiding behind my sunglasses, I accepted their offer and retreated to my car.
George Washington smiled smugly from the ten-spot. He knew I was taking him to coffee. There I ran into a friend from work. She asked how my week of decluttering was going. After I shared with her the fruits of my labor, she said, “Well, you look . . ”
“I know. I look great, right?”
We shared a nod and a broad grin before I went on my way.
Clearly the weight loss was showing. As with any plan, you need to stay motivated, or you’ll be right back where you started — or worse. The problem with taking nine consecutive days from work, is that nine days is exactly how long it takes to forget how energy-depleting work life is. Today, on day eight, I’m all like,
“I can keep up this momentum! All I have to do is to come home from work and spend a half hour each day organizing and decluttering!”
I seem to have forgotten that feeling of wanting nothing more than to put on my p.j.s and melt into the couch. Not to mention getting ready for the next day, bedtime rituals, possibly mustering up enough energy to eat a healthy dinner. And how, by Thursday, I usually just say,
“F*** it, give me a peanut butter sandwich.”
Don’t get me wrong, I love my time off, but she’s a tease. Everything seems attainable from this side of the time-clock.
So what’s my plan? How do I keep moving forward after the success of a 150-pound week? Maybe these inspirational quotes will be more effective for decluttering than they have been for weight loss.
“This is a journey, not a destination.”
“One pound at a time.”
“When I feel like quitting, I ask myself why I started.”
“Good things come to those who work their asses off.”
“Keep calm and carry a gun.”
Wait . . . that last one I read on a t-shirt at the gas station.
Peace . . .