As I was laying on the couch tonight after dinner, after cleaning Daughter's plugged drain, after taking care of injured cat*, I scooped another mouthful of ice cream and thought "Screw the diet, I deserve this."
Later, I caught a glimpse of my naked self as I was climbing into the shower and thought "I don't deserve to look like this." And I was right. The ice cream was incredible, but as much as I loved the instant gratification of Cookies n Cream, I sure as hell don't love the lump I've turned into.
I deserve better than laying on the couch eating ice cream.
I deserve better than breathing like a freight train because I climbed a flight of stairs.
I deserve more than dreaming about the body I used to have.
And I definitely deserve more than letting my stories go unwritten while I gather dust in front of the boob tube.
But I'll never get any of the things I know I deserve if I don't work toward them. I need to get off my lazy ass and exercise both my muscles and my brain. Atrophied muscles and an atrophied mind are no way to go through life, son.
I can't promise this feeling will last. Lord knows, I've kicked myself in the butt many times before only to wind up right back on that couch watching another rerun of Frasier or Friends or Grey's Anatomy. For now, though, it's here and I'd better damn well make use of it**.
Because I deserve better.
What do you deserve?
*Max showed up with a mysterious shoulder injury a couple days ago and has been recuperating in style - complete with fresh roasted chicken chunks and plenty of babying. He should be back to chasing the neighborhood toms tomorrow or the next day.
**And when I got out of the shower, I hand wrote another page of the fantasy. It ain't much but I'm still finding my way with this.