So…I did something super stupid last week. I’ve been maligning myself – left and right – for succumbing to the sugar monster within. Not just for a day, but the entire expanse of “holiday time”, which consists of (here in the U.S.) the sugar rush known as Halloween…marching through Thanksgiving (hello pumpkin pie)…and into Christmas (strudel, cookies, coffee cakes) and New Year’s (fancy desserts I don’t normally eat…tiramisu, chocolate souffles…you get the idea). Other people are enamored with turkey, dressing, heavy, meaty hors d’oeuvres but not me. Bring me sweets, my insatiable demon shouts.
Let me think this through, then…if I do the math, that’s a bit more than a day or two of falling off the wagon. 🤣 Oy. I’m not obsessive about sugar or truly any food, but the older I get, the more I recognize the inflammation impact of imbibing in too much sucrose, fructose – in any and all forms. It’s my sugary, slippery slope. Once I begin the slide, I’m doomed until I hit one of my enlightened, epiphany moments and climb back to reality. All things in moderation. Got it. But remember, Vicki? You don’t do moderation well, dufus!
So, I’m feeling better. Thanks for asking! 😉 I’m back in the saddle with a little self-control and daily Pilates and a bit of cardio – helping me to feel better, less tired, more normal. Cheers to me! But I’ve got some ground to cover – literally – before the waistband on my jeans is less tourniquet and more wearable…for more than three minutes.
Still with me? So, let’s get to the super stupid thing. I’m not a runner, but I fancy the lightweight running shorts for workouts. Good range of movement and I appreciate the pockets. I have a slew of shorts – all the same – so the excuse of ‘whoopsie – no fresh duds, I’ll need to skip today to do laundry’ isn’t an easy out. I know all of my tricks. I think so, anyhow?
The day in question, I hustled to get the sports bra on, the shorts, the compression socks, the base layer, the sweatshirt, fill my water bottle, find my towel…all for the 30-second commute to the basement. I was feeling smug because I managed to get ready in record time before Sadie (#1 poochie mama) suspected a thing. She hates it when I go to the basement and she can’t. It’s a mess with construction going on and it’s hardly safe for humans; certainly, a no-fly zone for our sweet old lady Sadie.
Feeling triumphant, pleased with my speediness, I got downstairs and started my routine and was instantly miserable. Forgiveness for the oversharing, if that’s how you might perceive what’s coming, but my shorts were ridiculously riding up. I could not get those suckers to sit where they were supposed to, if you know what I mean. Still, I trucked along, stretching, and doing my warmup, whilst frequently yanking at my shorts.
A smart woman (which clearly I’m not) would’ve slowed down to inspect the shorts, right? Nope – not me. I was mad because they were uncomfortable but rather than go with an obvious answer…like maybe my shorts were on backwards…I rolled into self-loathing. “The damn shorts, too? Another example of too many cookies?!” I figured my discomfort was my fault, all cookie and sweets related, accounting for the extra snuggy-ness of the shorts. Did I stop to investigate? Nope.
I finished my workout. Mad, glad and everything in between. Sweaty, but I finished. As I grabbed my phone to slide it into my pocket before I headed upstairs, I couldn’t find the opening in the side of my shorts. What the heck? So I struggled a bit, and when I finally got the pocket to reveal itself, I tried to slip my phone in and it went in…but towards my tush. I’m sure you figured this out before I got to this long-winded reveal. Stupid silly Vicki put her shorts on backward. Hurrying, yes, and rather than attributing the ill-fit to something plausible and easily fixable…like flipping my shorts around to the front…I instinctively attributed the odd fit and discomfort to cookies and all of their associates.
But wait – there’s more! By the time I figured this out, I could hardly control myself as a giggle fit took over. The good news is that no one was home but me and the pooch because I’m not sure how I would’ve explained the self-imposed hilarity to any humans in the house. My shorts made me laugh? Oh my.
Thanks for reading…and unpacking this with me. In the end, I recognize that I need to be better to my body, in a few different ways. What I consume? Sure thing. How to dress myself? Yes, yes – that, too!
Vicki ❤
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Victoria Ponders 
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