Somewhere along the line I got the idea that I deserve a Pepsi when I've had a bad day. Or night. Or, say, seven minutes.
I know this now, because I was theoretically going to only drink two Pepsi's a day for the month of January. And if you want to get technical about it, go by ounces, completely discount Coke, Dr Pepper, Sunkist, A&W Cream Soda, and average it out over 31 days, I suppose I succeeded.
But when I come to a day when I have four sick kids and I didn't sleep more than 28 minutes the preceding night (that's just a for-example. No pity, please, this was last Friday. I'm now recovering.), I wake with entitlement issues. (Wake, being metaphorical, of course, since I never really slept.)
I DESERVE Pepsi. Who cares if I've had two today. I DESERVE the treat. Sure, I could have coffee. I could have a Snickers. It isn't about caffeine OR sugar. It's about that delectable little thing called an addiction. It's PEPSI, man.
I've never understood people who feed their heartache (or exhaustion) in a batch of oh, cookie dough. (Love cookie dough. Might eat an entire batch. Just don't do it because I'm tired or upset. I do it because it is yummy.) Until this week. When I realized that I feed mine also. I just do it in liquid form.
Facing your own ugly truths is good for the soul.
Speaking of those silly little goals I had for January?
Even if you get technical with it I didn't succeed with any of them.
Oatmeal every day for a month? How about averaging it out over the month and we say once a week?
Twenty-five crunches a day? How about 100 crunches a month?
Don't talk to me about my Pepsi.
THIS is why I don't call them resolutions.
I have, however, done Wii We Cheer several times a week ALL MONTH LONG.
Not like it's The Firm or anything, but it's something.