Do you ever think, “I’ve let myself go?”
My gut may still be tight, but my words haven’t been. They hang off the screen, float aimlessly in the cloud, like that doughnut I shouldn’t have had or that squat I should have done. A lot has happened in the last few weeks, so I’ll work on them later.
I’ll do it tomorrow, give it the attention it deserves, keep that machine well-oiled so it’s not all downhill from here. Slipping slowly, slowly through my fingers until it turns up at the 10-year reunion virtually unrecognizable.
I’m allowed to let myself go, let little parts of myself float away. That’s how I get myself back. Getting myself back, hopping back on track, is one of life’s most satisfying pleasures.
But how long would I have to let it go before there was no going back? I don’t know, but I don’t plan on testing it. Thing is, we never plan. Other things just somehow sneak in the way of ourselves, or parts of ourselves get in the way of others and before you know it–where did that other little part go?
Have you let yourself go? Maybe a little piece? Your physical health, mental health, a hobby, a skill, or a love?
We can let some pieces of ourselves go and still be us. A pizza without pepperoni is still very much pizza. Other times, we can’t–its’ more of a pesto without the basil situation.
Italian food aside, it’s easy to choose the easier option, over and over. When the easier alternative is so comfy and delicious, we can forget how firey the harder option makes us feel because standing its way is a big ol’ barrier–which isn’t really that big, it’s just bigger than…nothing. But each time we skip tackling the barrier, it grows a little bigger.
Like dust bunnies under the couch.
Anyway, when I finally decide to pick that piece back up–break out the broom–there is some messy, ugly fumbling. A little warm-up and some awkward stretches where I grow Bambi legs and get reacquainted with coordination.
Have you let yourself go, or have you let yourself go?
Stand the Hell up, Bambi, (maybe avoid the ice for now) and let’s hear those knobby knees knock. Let them knock and knock until you rock and rock. Go, you, go, go, go.
So when you eventually proclaim, “I’ve let myself go”, it takes on a whole new meaning.