She’s Ba-ack…

Well hello there! My, don’t you look great. Me, not so much. You can’t see me now, but I’m not looking so good. Just to give you an idea: My skin is blotchy, I’m a bit bloated (well, that’s a bit kind), and I have these delightful circles under my eyes that, granted, don’t make me look as if I’ve just lost a fight—but close.


You see, while I’ve NOT been keeping up on this blog (so sorry, really, sorry), I have been wrestling with ornery clients and deadlines…living in a 17-hour a day pressure cooker that could boil up a good turkey chili in a matter of seconds. Thankfully, this is the beginning of the tail end of our busy season (11-weeks of Open Enrollment requiring fully executed communications campaigns for too many clients simultaneously). And as a result, I am now here. Coming off the adrenaline rush that both exhilarates and exhausts me in the best and worst of ways.


Which brings me back to my lead: Me, the Hot Mess (kind of like You the Owners’ Manual, but admittedly different). A casualty of my own bad sense and good work ethic. I need to be saved. The Good Lord at Nordstrom’s knows. And who better to do it than, well, yours truly. Which is why I’ve devised my own 12-step program of sorts (eat your heart out, Alcoholics Anonymous). It involves:


Step 1: Reconnecting with friends, retail therapy, and loved ones (even those I don’t like very much…you know who you are).


Step 2: Stepping away from [my colleague Cindy’s] candy dish.


Step 3: Breaking the habit of pouring the white flour directly on my food for efficiency purposes. (You haven’t lived until you’ve tried sprinkling a little “Gold Medal” directly on your Turkey Panini? Okay, I’m kidding…but not entirely…)


Step 4: Saying goodbye to all my friends at the dairy and gluten festival (goodbye my precious veggie pizza with extra cheese; ciao my little quesadilla we had some good times, si?; how I’ll miss you my precocious little cupcake, I only hope it was as good for you…)


Step 5: Stepping away from [my colleague Larry’s] candy dish.


Step 6: Regaining the hormonal fortitude to stop wanting to slash everybody’s tires or slap them in the ears.


Step 7: Hopping off the swinging mood vine for a little fresh ginger (to calm the nausea) and to feel my calloused feet in the dirt.


Step 8: Reconnecting with self (hello The Real Housewives…) and the aestheticians at KNK Nails.


Step 9: Sleeping and tweezing. (Don’t ask.)


Step 10: Stepping away from [my colleague Patti’s] candy dish.


Step 11: Reconnecting with all of you, here – my faithful readers (right, still there, hello?).


Step 12: Rewriting a new lead.


To that last point: It should come as no surprise to frankly anybody that I’m off the races with a new diet program or, rather, a new challenge. My latest greatest reconnaissance mission of wellness. It’s big and I’m excited about it. Goodbye bloat. Goodbye redness and that pesky dryness around the nostrils. Goodbye lil’ miss cranky pants. Hello two thirds of the clothes hanging in my closet with tags on them…


According to the people from the program, this one is all about feeling good with the byproduct of losing weight. Smart, huh? (Picture me pointing to my noggin’.) Finally takin’ a new tact to an old problem whereby I am no longer solely focused on shrinking my donkey; but, instead, working to expand my healthfulness. (Hey, is that a word?)


Because that’s more important. I know it. I do. To sleep well. Clean up that T-zone. Learn to love again (or, if nothing else, lose my cravings for carbohydrates – either/or).


I’m going to eat well, do lots of yoga (even though I’m about as flexible as a wooden ruler), journal, walk, take a hot bath and LOTS and LOTS of expensive supplements. And, at the end of the day, write a new beginning that does not include Eczema of any kind. (After all, it’s T-1.2 for my first ”recommended” colonoscopy [my personal way of counting down to the big 5-0], and I’m not going in looking or feeling like this.)


Don’t think I can do it? (Oh, God, really? YOU DON’T??) Well, just watch. In fact, come with me. Because I’m going to write to you EACH WEEK (do you hear that, my long-limbed, fair-haired editors?) to let you know how it goes. But you have to write back. Tell me about your own stealth mission to feel better. Is it a deal?


Hope so. I’ll stay tuned if you’ll stay tuned. Until next time!!

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