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October 17, 1997 A new day. I wrote the words “a new day” last night. I wrote with optimism, with a sense of renewal, with the hope that on this day I could start fresh and feel motivated (2011 note: I had a chance, I was only 37). I wrote them hoping that Kip would wake up feeling sorry that he wished me dead and that I would wake up and not feel hurt by the angry remarks of an eight year old. Unfortunately, I woke up feeling tired, worn out, and frustrated so much so that I forgot to weigh myself before I showered. Wet, shoulder length hair weighs approximately 1.5 pounds (2011 note: I’ve learned since then that getting a haircut is one of the only ways I can lose weight).

Kip and I argued about clothes this morning. It is picture day and he wanted to get dressed up. Unfortunately, the only “dressed up” clothes he has were purchased when he was in my brother’s wedding. My brother has been married for three years (2011 note: make that 17)! My son does not trust my judgment. “The clothes are too tight,” I say in my most convincing mommy voice. “You said it was going to rain,” he argues as he looks outside at blue skies and sunshine.

Tony was supposed to work all of this out last night. I specifically recall saying to him, “Honey, since Kip would be sad if you died, would you mind helping him find something that fits for picture day?” So I called him at work and let my lousy morning spill into his (2011 note – Bet Tony wishes I had started taking those menopause pills a couple of decades earlier) and then I went to the gym.

Today is the closest I have come to not going to the gym. My big excuse: I had not finished my mocha yet. I went because I knew that not going would be like kicking myself in the head and what I needed was a big hug, not a kick in the head (2011 note – debatable). Even as I drove into the parking lot, I was making deals with myself – if there is a substitute instructor, I’ll leave – I just wanted to go into autopilot and not have to think about which way to bounce or how high to hop (2011 note – Bouncing and hopping? Now I can’t even pour milk or pull my bra strap up with one hand . . . I know some of you know what I’m talking about ). Thankfully, the regular instructor was there and the workout was great. By the time we got to sit-ups, I was feeling downright good.

Now, I’m feeling better. Now, I feel optimistic and motivated. It is a new day, and when Kip gets home, I’m going to kiss him and hug him and help him make a really cool Halloween costume – something DEAD. Perhaps, we’ll use the clothes that he wore to picture day.

October 17, 2011

And we did (a really cool Dr. Frankenstein riding on the shoulder’s of the monster – wish I had a photo; it was one of the best costumes I ever made because it was made out of guilt). It turns out, I was wrong; the 8 year old school photo in the too small suit and bowtie is the cutest school picture we have (anyone else see a trend here), and that Kip would end up taking lots of photos in clothing that his mother would always think was a little on the too tight side.

Final note  – I’m going to find a gym today (1997 mom lost 30 pounds between October and January) and a hair salon!