Red wine and the power of reflection

This week has been a bit well, shitty, really. My back is still taking its own sweet time to recover, I got a few lots of disappointing news and when I checked the scales on Friday, it would seem that the brie and pasta I have been consoling myself with over the last 5 weeks have decided to stake a settlement claim on my hips and gut - very rude. I of course dealt with this as any mature woman would by downing over 2 bottles of red wine last night with some good friends and watching the Wallabies and Springboks show each other all manner of man love on a rugby field. That's how it was looking by the time I got to the bottom of my second bottle of shiraz, anyway. Luckily, my inner hangover warning system kicked in at 4am this morning, so I was able to get up, drink lots of water and take 2 preventive panadol. Not feeling too bad right now - just a bit tired, but that can happen when your 3 year old comes bouncing into your bedroom at 6 ish, launches himself from the end of the bed onto your chest and yells in your face how much he loves you and that HE"S AWAKE!!!!!!

Anyway, we settled ourselves in on the lounge with a few pillows and blankets etc and struggled (well, I struggled, he seemed fine) our way through the delight that is Sunday morning TV programming. We had the choice of a live feed from World Youth Day, some evangelist who seemed to think that you would send in money if he SHOUTED the gospels into the microphone and the new improved version of "The Magic Roundabout". Now, I am a child of the 70s and this new version is just not the same - there is NO WAY you can imagine that Dougal the dog is just a mop end that someone at BBC stuck some eyes on and made the station an overnight success in children's programming. As such, I had time to reflect on what I've been up to over the last few years - have the feeling I had not yet sobered right up and was going through the "contemplative drunk" phase. Still, I have also sat in front of all kinds of kids TV shows stone cold sober and I reckon Tweenies would be made a hell of a lot more bearable if you are 3 sheets to the wind. So, turning things around in my slightly foggy brain, I came to the following conclusions:

1. I have done really well with my fitness and weight loss in the past, but I am starting to lose my grip on it and the weight is starting to creep back on. I need to get back on the rabbit food if I want to be able to buy a summer dress from a shop, rather than doing a long term hire of a marquee from the local events hire place.
2. Hurting myself has sucked big, hairy ones. No polite way to say how jacked off I am about this. The only up side I have had from this is that I've had more time with the family, but constant pain (even really low grade stuff like I have now) tends to take the gloss off this a bit. Remaining happy, optimistic and focused on getting better is exhausting and after a while my "up" attitude starts to shit me off. Big time.
3. I am going to have to pull a whole lot of energy from somewhere to get motivated and moving again. Awesome. To quote Samuel L. Jackson "Oh, excuse me while I just pull that out of my arse". I know I CAN do it, it just shits me that I have to. Whinge, wah, wah, wah, wah.
4. The person who came up with Barney the dinosaur was hell's own messenger. No one on God's green earth came up with this concept, no human is that cruel. And the people who put it on at 7 in the morning on a Sunday deserve herpes. Hmm, I think the panadol are wearing off. Might just have more shiraz for breakfast.