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I have a weakness. I can’t keep a commitment to myself. I can keep public commitments. I earned an advanced degree and I’ve been married nearly 15 years, so it’s not that I don’t have staying power, but, let’s face it, inertia is a powerful force in both of those instances. Here’s the big confession: I can’t stay committed to eating right and exercising. I know. Like 98% of my fellow Americans. So what?

I have a big reason to want to be slim and trim in June. I want to look better than my husband’s ex at our oldest daughter’s graduation. For those of you whom that irks, my stepdaughter. I know it’s petty and vain and narcissistic and some other unpleasant adjectives. But there it is. So I’ve made that declaration public right here. Now, I can’t control what she does, but I’m mistress of my own destiny and I’m taking the wheel. (More mixed metaphors). To help myself along, I’m entering a race that happens in March. I’ve already signed up for an indoor triathalon in December. I may not shine, but I will be there. Because I don’t want to be beating myself up for not being svelte on top of the other ninety-eight other things that I will be self-flagellating for at graduation time. Who knows, the deep breathing capacity may even come in handy that day.

And then I can slack off until her wedding.

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