Saboteurs, Nemeses, and Archenemies! Oh, My!

In the coming days, weeks, and months there will be things that come up that could potentially derail my success. Scratch that. Not "potentially." It is inevitible.

In no particular order, here are a few:

Saboteur #1: My job. I teach, and anyone who spends long periods of time with children knows a few things, and don't get me wrong- I absolutely ADORE my class this year- best group I've had in years. However. Children are frustrating at times. Children are delightful most of the time. Children are exhausting energy-suckers ALL THE TIME.

I love the children. The children love me. Because the children love me, they want to share everything with me. EVERYTHING. Stories, cute drawings, handfuls of sweaty-palmed skittles from their lunches, "jokes" that they start over five times and end in unintelligible giggles, family secrets/plots/intrigues. . .

And the germs. SO MANY GERMS!!!!!!!! The children make me sick. Literally. I think I'm allergic to one or all of them. Seriously. But it's okay. I still love the children.

Then there are all the non-teaching duties: grading, meetings, parent communication, committee assignments.

And the 45-minute commute. An hour and a half of my day stuck in the car.

By the time I get home I am physically, emotionally, and mentally depleted. The desire to cook a healthy dinner or exercise is somewhat lacking.

Saboteur #2: Foooooooooooooooooooood. I love delicious food. I hate non-delicious food. I am a convenience junkie. The good thing is, there are so many delicious foods that I love that are also healthy for me. But they take time. Forethought. Trips to the grocery store. So many times convenience trumps the health and deliciocity factors. Much to the detriment to my waistline and general well-being. If I choose something delicious and convenient, it's usually not healthy. If I choose something healthy and convenient, it's usually not delicious. And if it's not delicious I go in search of more food to satisfy my discriminating palate. <--- I jest. By "discriminating" palate I simply mean that my tastebuds must dance a happy dance. A flavor-full happy dance. Then there is the brain-washing voodoo aspect of food. I've worked hard to recognize and manage my emotional eating over the past several years. I only occaisionally stress or sad or happy eat. But I mindlessly zombie eat. And portion control? Webster's defines control as the following: a restraining or directing influence over. Oh, yeah. I definitely have control. I restrain the non-delicious food from gathering on my plate and directly influence large amounts of deliciousness on to it instead.

Saboteur #3:

This is my BKF (Best Kitten Friend), Professor Minerva McGonagall. She's nothing like her namesake. Maybe I should have named her Lady Voldemort. No, that wouldn't really fit. Because I'm sure that she did what she did out of some misguided sense of love. I think.

She Tonya Harding-ed my toe. With a mug.

This little piggy went, "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!! &@#$@!!!!!! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY!!!"

She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named became The Cat Who Lived, only because she could run faster than. . .well, because she could run.

Of course it could have been just an accident. Or maybe she thought I could use some extra rest and decided to force the issue by incapacitating me. Or perhaps it was a cry for help, a need for more bonding time. With me laid up we were definitely getting in more snuggle time.

However, as the days of recovery wore on, I began to suspect an ulterior, even more self-serving motive. This happened just as I was about to launch my exercise campaign. Coincidence? No.

Suddenly, the realization dawned on me.

Kitten loves my fat rolls.

The squishy softness is perfect for optimal kneading of the claws. The perfect venue for napping, complete with cushiony headrests.

Kitten wants me fat.

Kitten will go to any lengths.

But forewarned is forearmed. Vigilance is my watchword, kitten.

Prepare to say goodbye to the fat rolls, BKF. Their days are numbered.