So, every year I give up something for Lent. I’m not Catholic, so maybe it’s a throwback to my Catholic school days. Mostly, I do it to curb some bad behavior. Or to get back on track 🙂
I got my Mardi Gras fun in this weekend, with no vodka soda left behind. I didn’t manage to get a pic with both my beads and my mask, but at least I made it home with both! Such a fabulous time at the Krewe de Roux ball. Plus, I got to wear sparkles.
I have a few hours left of Fat Tuesday to decide, but I’m pretty sure I’m giving up booze again. Crazy in a year that I’ve already given up gluten, dairy, soy, wine (save a glass or two), coffee (mostly), beer, Mom’s pie, stuffing, blueberries, ginger, honey, etc. etc. etc.
Seriously, what’s left to give up? Why am I even considering this madness?
Well, here are the facts. Alcohol is a big fat inflammatory, and I’m really supposed to reduce my consumption. I’ve done a good job on that front since October, but fabulous Dallas patio weather has definitely increased my boozy treat time. Plus a super fun new drinking buddy. Bad, Christina.
Secondly, my weight loss has stalled. I’ve only lost about six pounds since Christmas, and that’s despite staying pretty steady at 1600-1800 calories a day. Sure, I have a desk job, but I should still be dropping at least a pound a week. Maybe even two. Especially since I’ve also stepped up my game at the gym.
I like what I see when I look in the mirror, certainly more than I have for the past couple of years, but there’s still a way to go before I feel back to myself. Good, bad, otherwise, I don’t feel like me. I don’t feel strong, and there are still days I don’t feel pretty. And that’s not a good way to be.
Besides, alcohol is a depressant, and combining this cold and nasty weather with booze just adds to the dreariness. My wise friend Erin told me back in college after a night of boozing, “Alcohol is a depressant, yo.” Words of wisdom. So when I’m trying to shake off the depression and shake off some pounds, the booze gotta go.
Crap, now I have Taylor Swift stuck in my head. “Shake it off! Shake it off!”
I will reserve the right to have bubbles for two occasions. The St. Patrick’s Day parade, if we go, and if I close on a house before April 5. My lease is up at the end of April, and I’ve been looking!
So here’s to the next 40 days and 40 nights. And mimosas on Easter Sunday. Perhaps a smaller sized Easter dress, too. That’s right – those are Easter eggs labeling the mixers. As God intended.