That’s my age. As of today. 27. I usually love birthdays; birthdays, for me, are a valid and reasonable excuse to take the day off from work, pig out, be lazy, and do whatever the hell I feel like doing. My birthday is a free day. It’s also the day I make resolutions for the rest of the year. It’s my actual New Years’ Day.
27 is weird. 26 was hard enough; I had to come to grips with the fact that I was on the downward slide into the dreaded 3-0, so scary that the 3 and the 0 cannot be in such close proximity as to be adjacent. Yikes. What do I have to show for the past 20 + 7 years of my existence? I am not famous, I am not rich, I am not skinny (although I am still healthier than I was two years ago). I don’t love my job, nor do I love my adopted city anymore (sorry, Seattle, but it’s true). My life is in a state of flux as I’m trying to lose weight again and move my non-skinny ass to San Francisco.
I did, however, get a new workout outfit yesterday:
The pants and the jacket are new. I like the jacket because it has zippered pockets and is warm and rainproof… plus, it was on sale. Happy birthday to ME.
Anyway. Today, instead of indulging in the aforementioned lazyassness, I went for a 10-mile-long walk, right on the heels (no pun intended) of my 13-mile walk yesterday. I’ve decided I’m a hardcore walker, apparently. I opened an account on DailyMile and have committed to updating it. Now, here’s the logic: I’ve been working out every day (just about), for an hour a day, in the fancy new gym. I spend half an hour on the elliptical, then fifteen minutes on the treadmill at 4 mph, then fifteen minutes on the stationary bike, or some other combination that totals an hour. I’ve been doing this for the past month, plus a low-calorie diet, and my pants still don’t fit. Whaaaa?
Okay, so, look at my legs in those pants. There’s a little fat, sure, but that’s mostly muscle. They’re getting bulky. Ugh. No more elliptical. It’s all walking from here on out. My legs do not need any help being bulky, thankyouverymuch.
This, by the way, is how much I walked today.
Enough of that…
Time to decide on my goals for this year!
1. Move to San Francisco, ideally by September.
2. Lose 20-ish lbs by the time I move to San Francisco; a.k.a., look like this again:
3. Walk at least 35 miles per week. Totally doable, since I can already easily walk 6 miles a day.
4. Finally learn how to budget… or win the lottery. Preferably the latter. Although gambling probably doesn’t fit too well with fulfilling the former. Kind of a flaw in the plan.
5. Keep my remaining plants alive. Poor plants.
6. Make more of an effort with general upkeep: get mani/pedis, schedule hair appointments before my hair becomes an unstyleable mess, clean my apartment at least once a week (including vacuuming the couch and dusting), etc. Maintenance is a good thing. Grown-ups do it.
7. Have a better attitude at work. They may annoy me and I may not want to be there, but I have to make better use of my time until I get to leave. I feel better when I make an effort.
8. Make more of an effort to spend time with my remaining friends in Seattle before I leave them for good. The ones that haven’t flaked out on me are the keepers, they deserve the effort.
9. Start refocusing my energy on hobbies I’ve neglected, like music.
Okay, I was going for 27 goals, but it turns out I only have 9. Overall goal: be better. The end.