Accidental resolutions

The year 2009 I was a hot mess. I didn’t know where to live, whether I was going to take that writing program that I had been putting off, which religion I was going to adopt (I was basing it on dietary restrictions), whether I would still torture people every Sunday with this column (happy 10 years “Coffee to Cocktails”!) and what would happen to Caligula. Plus, I haven’t worked out in six months and I was eating like Octomommy. I used Facebook as my therapy.

 It was looking bleak for a while there. There may be an anachronism here or there with my summary of the past year but there was no doubting the sturm und drang of 200 effin’ 9.

“Breakdown, breakthrough,” it’s my favorite movie quote of all time from Jerry Maguire. Now I know I’m just seriously crazy, I can’t change who I am. My 20s were all about defining who I was. Now that I’m 30 and Saturn has departed, it’s all about the things I can change and cannot change. Sigh, I can’t wait for my 40s when I don’t give a crap.

 I decided this year will be less hysterical. I vowed to less mollycoddle my navel gazing ways and actually strive to be a useful part of society. I used to be a snob to anything slightly pedantic. Until I realized the macedoine of fascinations I nurtured were not just useless but rather sick as well. I was a contrarian when it came to stuff like health and the good stuff. The Boyfriend (early days) would try to get me into a more healthy lifestyle routine. But I just enjoyed arguing so much I stuck to my heart-attack diet and my temerarious relationship with inertia.

The year 2010 changed everything. Boyfriend’s maturity slightly rubbing off on me, I decided that maybe the one too many imbroglios in our early days were starting to feel like silk cargo pants, function mitigated. So I embraced peace and with it a more sobering realization that my body is getting old, too. Gone were the days of eating an entire box of pizza and forgetting about it. Now I put a kernel of popcorn in my mouth and sure enough it will find its way on my cheek fat. Then there was my hysteria.

My friend, who is basically the soul mate of Tom Cruise, says, “Screw that Delilah crap. All you need is to break out in a sweat and none of that powerplate carb.” Did he not know I was fragile? No and he didn’t care. Actually nobody did. So then and there in my Sylvia Plath moment I decided….bring the pedantic on!

Before I decided to be functional like everyone else in the world, I had to do it in style. My grandfather once said, “Nothing in this world influences quite like inspiration.” Of course, he was talking about leadership, but I took some creative liberties and fitted it to my disputatious state. I went to buy Stella McCartney gym clothes and the Boyfriend treated himself to some Porche Design exercise wear. I was so inspired already!

Then I decided to get rid of some frenemies. It was like a Barbara Streisand movie! You know when she’s tired of being the funny girl and wanted to be the hot girl? To get there, there was some canaille to get rid off.

The ultimate frenemy was white rice and pasta. Even if I had made my peace with carbs after a controversial love affair with the Atkins Diet that spanned a blasphemous two years, I could see that these refined carbs had unrefined effects on my ass and belly. So brown rice and whole wheat pasta it was. Goodbye, marshmallows and ice cream; hello, yogurt and brocolli. Goodbye, Martha Stewart; hello, Shape magazine. I popped vitamins like Nancy Reagan in the White House.

Then the actual work was to be done. I’m now on my way to week two of my Operation Bombshell mission. It entailed 6 a.m. 4k runs around the polo field, followed by two hours of Pilates and yoga. I was still a myrmidon of the boob tube but now I followed my shows while I was on the stationary bike.

When I went to the office, I babbled to Bea Ledesma and Audrey Carpio about my transition from Baby Spice to Sporty Spice. “You’re the Changeling” was all Bea could say about my new life.

Haters.

Nevermind that 2010 may have started on the wrong foot for me. But watch out, I’m so totally training myself to survive all four Mercury retrogrades that are coming this year. Stay tuned!