That’s me on the right, in case you were wondering.
Okay, so not completely. But I’m pretty sure if you look in my photo albums circa 1999, there’s probably a shot with me just like this. Holding my college roommate and instead of a Music Awards backdrop, we’re talking a room full of scattered Frosted Flakes and the remnants of a destroyed Phil Collins and Alanis Morissette CD collection. And yes, I’d be holding her like this. [With or without my shirt, not sure.]
Okay, so I’m kidding. (Sort of.)
Party Girl is classic Meredith.
Party Girl was pretty unhappy, because no matter how much make-up and fun she put on… there was always the regret in the morning. Why did I eat an entire turkey reuben sandwich at 3:00 in the morning??? (Ah-hem. Above photo). Or waking up in the morning to find a pizza box…with no memory of who ate the pizza. Only knowing that the fact I had pizza sauce on my shirt strongly indicated that it was me who ate the entire pizza. Why can’t I lose weight????
Granted… this was not a “usual” occurrence. But I’m just saying, I like to have fun. I can drink beer with the boys and down the same amount of food. I like going out and drinking wine and having martinis and bar hopping all around the place.
Which is super cute when you are 19.
Somehow turns sad at 33.
I guess you can say that these last twenty-two days of “perfect” eating have taught me a few things.
Mainly, that I think it’s time to say goodbye to the Party Girl.
For example, I just spent the afternoon setting up a cocktail reception at our firm. I had to pass over the most awesome finger foods, wine, beer and vodka. Just had to set it up. Put it out, and walk away.
Yes, I could have stayed, but I thought I’d just walk away and not be social.
It’s a struggle for me… the social aspect… (not the stripping off the pants thing…)
Because I’m a “where’s the party —oh, right here it is! yeah baby” kind of girl. But I walked away. I have to clean it up in 45 minutes. But that will just be scraps. That would be sad if I inhale any then…. it would be like eating out of a trashcan.
I am learning that feeling good and healthy (and sleeping amazing!!) is better than feeling like the life of the party. Not that I was anyway…
Now, I’m the life of the gym! Oh yeah, baby… watch me swim laps! Watch me run 11 miles on the treadmill.
I’m a wild one!
[And for the record, I think I am finally okay with that.]