My house went on the market on February 21. Today is May 8. It feels like eternity. It isn’t of course, but the amount of extra stuff that we have to do to make it look like a showroom is getting to be a drag. Actually it was a drag from the beginning, since I really don’t like housework.
Maybe it stems back to my first regular paying job outside of babysitting. I cleaned house for a neighbor around the corner, whose son happened to be in my class. I went over every Monday after school for the duration of my junior and senior years and cleaned. Each week I thoroughly cleaned the bathrooms, then alternated between cleaning the upstairs and downstairs. Every once in a while my neighbor would have me work in the basement rec room instead.
It may have been the easiest cleaning job ever, since I’m positive the woman I worked for cleaned before I got there. Still, I did everything I was supposed to do. After she was gracious about me ruining her bath mat on my very first day (needless to say I learned how to properly handle bleach after that), I knew that I owed her nothing less than my best effort.That house was immaculate. Mine is not.
When you clean a house thoroughly you get to know it intimately. You know where the tile is uneven, where the paint is scuffed, and where the chrome on the edge of the medicine cabinet is discolored. In the two years I’ve lived here, I’ve gotten to know this house pretty well, mostly over the past two months.
In an effort to combat the construction across the street, I’ve done my best to “stage” my house and yard. I want people to imagine themselves living here. I want them to picture themselves sitting by the pool enjoying a margarita, or baking a pie in the kitchen. I want it to feel like home.
I’m not sure I’ve accomplished my goal or not, but I do like my little touches. I just wish I didn’t feel like I need them anymore.
“They’ll know,” I thought to myself as I took a deep breath. I looked in the mirror, and it’s a good thing I did. A shiny reflection glinted back at me from my blouse. Dammit! I almost walked into my first Weight Watchers meeting in years with a chip of donut glaze prominently displayed above my right breast. That was a close call.
I made the decision to go back to Weight Watchers, but it came at a bad time. You see, it’s Teacher Appreciation Week. You knew that, right? No? That’s ok. For most of my career I didn’t know when it was either. That’s because Teacher Appreciation Week (TAW from now on, because it’s just too many letters to type) was marked by a little card of appreciation from my administrator (sometimes with a pencil or a Hershey Kiss), and a few spammy type emails from various businesses that sell overpriced goods to underpaid teachers. It was easy to miss, especially since it’s not a national holiday, at least not yet.
This year, however, TAW is different. This year I work at a school with a kick-ass PTA who takes their job very seriously. These people are on a mission, and by golly they succeed. They raise funds and provide goods and services to the school like nobody’s business. We needed more Smartboards. Hello PTA. Done. Amazing. They run roller skating parties and dances, they sell gift wrap and cookie dough, and among other things, they give the teachers money for supplies. Unless you’ve taught in a school with no budget and no viable PTA, you can’t appreciate how huge this is.
Well, these generous people took it upon themselves to give our teacher’s lounge a makeover. They brought in two sleek new tables and a new television stand with storage underneath (I’ve never actually seen the television on, maybe it’s there for emergencies). They’ve redone the bulletin boards that were looking a little sad and sloppy. They put up decorative mirrors and a few other wall decorations to jazz things up. And then the real deal… they gave us tons of new, useful stuff! Two coffee makers, two microwaves, a toaster, a three station crockpot, an ice maker and a huge set of dishes and storage containers. Oh, they even brought in new dish scrubbers! It’s incredible.
Naturally they wanted us to use all these gorgeous new appliances and dishes, so they brought in a huge breakfast too. I was good. I ate a yogurt. But only because I had just been to Starbucks and had a pastry and a frappucino. But shhhh, nobody needs to know about that. Or about the donut I had at lunch. Ok. I had two of them. And then another after school. And another. Oh god. Did I really eat four donuts? And a yogurt? And a pastry? And a frappucino? And nachos in honor of Cinco de Mayo (because I’m sure everyone in Mexico eats nachos to commemorate General Zaragoza’s victory over the French at Puebla)? Yep. I did.
I could have thrown in the towel right then and there. I could have deemed myself unworthy of Weight Watchers. I could have taken my donut stuffed, shame filled self home for another round of woe is me, I’m so fat. I could have, but I didn’t. I stopped in the restroom, removed the tell tale donut glaze, and bravely stepped back into that bright yellow haven called Weight Watchers.
Yes, getting on the scale sucked, but so what. I can do it. I’ve done it before. The room was full of people just like me. People who want to shed pounds for whatever reason. People who appreciate the support of others and the accountability of the weekly weigh in. The people there are nice. They really are. And if they judge you for walking in with donut glaze, they generally keep it to themselves, even if they do want to lick your shirt.
Here I sit, Sunday night, drinking my water and feeling pretty good about having eaten only half of my dragon noodles (they were soooooo good!). I’m patting myself on the back because I spent about two hours walking around the home and garden show with my guys. So what if there was no inspiration to be found at the show? I hoofed it and got a little exercise, not to mention the hike across the fairground parking lot and back. Oh yeah, I’m a health nut.
Not really.
You know me too well.
If these lame examples are what I’m counting as successes, I’m really not succeeding. I can do better. I can do more.
I want to use selling my house as an excuse. I want to blame my terrible eating habits on having to keep the kitchen clean for any potential visitors, but really that’s baloney. I can eat yogurt or fruit without making a mess. A pre-made salad takes no effort or time to prepare, and has very little clean up. I’m lying to myself, and it’s showing.
My waistline is expanding, my breathing is labored, and the tingling in my hands from my carpal tunnel is getting worse by the day (I swear it’s related to my weight and overall health).
My last doctor’s appointment wasn’t exactly great. We had the talk. Again.
I want to do better. I want to feel better. I know a way that might help, but the question is do I want to commit?
Yes, folks, I’m thinking about going back to Weight Watchers. Again. They always welcome me with open arms and big smiles (of course I do pay them) . I like the meetings. I like the accountability. I even like the structure. The question is, am I willing to put in the work?
I guess we’ll see, because I’m going to do it. Tomorrow I sign up. Again. Wish me luck.
BulgingButtons 