Dance Magic Dance – Week 7, Day 1

A post later in the day, because it’s a No Bones Day.

Last night, for the first time in months, maybe even years, I went out to a friend’s, got liquored up, and sang a shit ton of karaoke. And then played song quiz. Afterward, I hobbled my drunken ass home in my air cast and slept in.

It’s been far too long since I’ve given in to seeing friends. Given in to going out. Choosing a late night over a cozy bed. Forgoing an early bedtime, and thus meaning foregoing a sunrise coffee and Wordle before dawn.

And it was fantastic.

I don’t know who or what I became for the two perilous years of the pandemic, where we were all relegated to trying on a “new normal”. A new way of doing things. But one things for fucking sure – this girl doesn’t do sunrise coffees. She’s a night hawk. She loves the chill in the air, when the city is quietly calming down, and owning the night all to herself. Then flopping into bed, staring out her window over the cityscape. I never was one to back down from who I am, or who I want to be. I’ve always steadfastly been who I am. Loud, obnoxious – a silly little foul-mouthed pirate with a swear word on her tongue, and her heart on her sleeve. Always looking for the next good time. Always looking for the people who want to join her.

Last night, as we were cheers-ing over another round, my friend said: “Care is back. This is the Care we all fell in love with. You’ve been gone so long.”

His wife agreed. “We missed you,” she added.

I missed me, too.

Today, the sunlight is shining a bit brighter. The balcony of our apartment is less snowy. My kid is less ornery. And I’m a bit lighter. In spirit. In happiness. In wellness. My ankle isn’t swelling nearly as badly as it was. The ultrasound is being booked for next week. And physio starts on the 22nd. I’m down two pounds this week, thanks to intermittent fasting, low carbs, and an unwillingness to back away from the challenge.

Part of what I discussed with my friends last night was taking the time to recognize just how far I’d lost my identity, and how long I took to reclaim even a piece of it. When Kid C and I moved into our new place, it’s hard to believe it was last fall. And we’re coming up to spring. I chose a full six months to dust out the cobwebs, get the closure I needed, look forward into what I wanted to become, and forgive myself for all I’d let myself be. Now that I’m in control of what happens next, getting to a friends place for drinks and karaoke was a sign that I’m headed back into the space that makes me the happiest. The most content. I’m not trying to fool anyone. I’m not trying to keep a muzzle on all that made me weak, or sad. I’m not giving anyone but myself the power to control my decisions, my behaviours.

In that way, it’s been a big week.

Part of that was getting “back into the swing of things” after a week off back home. It was time to really examine my way of eating, sticking to intermittent fasting, what meals I could concoct or create to make me feel full, but not starving during the non-eating hours.

In a desperate ploy to have pesto, I gave pesto-seasoned greek yogurt a go. And it was actually pretty fucking good.

I’ve learned to replace most breads with lower gluten-infused carbs, like Melba toast. It’s an easy way to get a carb into me, without making my gluten-intolerance flare up. (Eczema is actually, like, the itchest, scaliest, worst affliction I’ve dealt with. And it blows).

I’ve always been a left-overs gal. I always will be. My parents, my sisters, my friends. They know the key to my heart is to let me go through their fridges and scavenge up some leftover casseroles, or chicken dinners, or taco nights and whip myself up something delicious. This week was no different. I had Quiznos brought over early in the week, and saved part of it to make a skillet of chicken carbonara the next day.

But, I also fully believe that we should be as honest about the meals that don’t turn out, as we are the meals that do. Some of my freezer meals are insanely delicious. Pull them out, defrost, and either give them the day in the slow cooker, or pan fry them off on the stove. But some of them down right suck. And this one did. It was Chicken Bacon Ranch fry, and I thought it would have been delicious. But there was a culmination of terrible flavours that put this one at the bottom of my eating list this week. I give it no stars.

So how did I make out this week?

This well:

2lbs down in a week, and almost 8 overall in a month. These little fragments of success are enough to keep propelling into an inspired week ahead. I’m also down more than an inch on my bust. So, something is working. Imagine when I can actually get up and really burn some calories.

The takeaway from this week is actually being content with life exactly where it is right now. It’s not about making peace with the past. It’s not forging forward and musing about where the journey will land me. It’s about right now. What right now looks like for me. And I’m finally at peace with it.

Don’t forget – I’m now blogging my love life. lol! “Finding Love In the City” is published Sundays. Read blog one here.

Farr is currently creating my new meal plan. From the smell in my kitchen, I’m currently burning the chicken.

I love each of you. Join the Health Care Group on Facebook for more.

And take good care of eachother.

-c β˜…

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