It's my 11th day and it's 1-11-11 Day. Know what that means, folks? I am resolving to make my sweet self Numero Uno for once and for all. Starting today. Does that mean I will be a selfish cad and get all Me First on everyone? No it does not. I expect to conduct myself with the comportment befitting a woman of my advanced age and all that jazz. What it does mean is that I will put myself first in matters of self care. No more "this sucks, but if it makes you happy. . ." No more chasing things that are bad for me. No more "haven't got time" for myself. No more instant gratification.
There can be only one (of me, but you can be your #1 too.) I am a rock. I am an island. I am the frackin' cheese. Kneel before me and my feats of self-actualization.
And, let's talk BMI. Lolo sweetly commented on her last post that she and I differ in height and weight but have similar BMIs. A nice thought, but chickieboo runs a lot more than I. She is a trim little wisp of a thing. And I am not. And that's okay. I'm getting there.
What I really want to say about BMIs is that the term always reminds me of either bowel movements or the dumb Sex Pistols song of the same name. There is no You Tube video for that song, but there is this, which I feel compelled to share. Because, well- because it features the very babyfaced solo front-boy in a thong. And doesn't that just make your Tuesday?
(Edited to add: I keep neglecting to track my food because it's boring. Meat, meat, fish. Coconut milk, veg, some fruit. Lots of tea. Keepin' on.)