A sometimes serious, sometimes tongue-in-cheek look at work, life, dieting, losing weight, getting in shape, getting bent out of shape and getting over it with a dose of humor.

Sunday, October 01, 2006

Celebrating Success

As personality traits go, being a perfectionist is a bit like getting the short end of the stick and not knowing it. The first time I had an indication of this was when I was ten years old and burst into tears in front of the tv because a picture hanging in the background of the show I was watching was crooked. I couldn't finish watching it. To this date I don't know what happened to little Stephen or Maya or whatshisorhername. Actually, I don't even know if there was a little Stephen or Maya or whatshisorhername because I don't remember what the show was about. But I do remember that crooked picture. And it still makes me cringe.

I spent half of my first support group last Wednesday looking around the table and thinking. "Look at all the paper. If I could only straighten it out..."

If this isn't bad enough add to it a certain amount of natural competitiveness and you get a whole new dynamic. Generally this translates to wanting to be the best or not wanting to play at all. Nice, huh? But fun as all this sharing is what exactly is the point? The point is, I don't celebrate progress - I celebrate success. And success for me is an all or nothing kind of deal. In this process I often ignore the everyday little accomplishments, banishing them to the kingdom of lost treasures to languish forgotten. So, fair reader, if you happened to say that 1 successful week wasn't worth celebrating, normally I would agree with you.

But not today.

Today I want to celebrate the fact that I went to the gym even though I was sick all last week, that I ate 4 servings of vegetables a day dutifully and even pretended I could get to like broccoli, that I did a full hour of cardio on a beautiful Sunday and that maybe, just maybe, I am stronger than a lot of times I give myself credit for.

So, what's my reward? Ice cream, of course. No, just kidding. As you can see it is the farthest thing from it. (Of course, this would make much more sense if I actually had a picture you could "see" but since I don't I will describe it.) ... It's a lip balm that goes by the exotic name of Vanilla Honey, smells like warm vanilla sugar and reminds me with every swipe that I earned it. Like a L'Oreal ad, with a twist.


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