on (not) stuffing myself like a turkey

On this Thanksgiving Eve, the day before the first Thanksgiving we will not spend in Pennsylvania with my family (at least in a long time … there was that one year hubby and I were in Hawaii, but I don’t count that since the kids were with my family. And who are we kidding, the kids are the only ones anyone wants to see anyway), I’m making a vow to not stuff myself like a turkey tomorrow.

I will not stuff myself.

I will not stuff myself.

I will not stuff myself.

You see, promises like these need to made in the open for the world to hear (or read). And coming off what I’m fairly certain was THE WORST health screening I’ve ever had in my life, I feel it’s time to make a change. If I don’t, I might end up dead.

Or worse–on a diet for the rest of my life.

Which means no Dove chocolate or cotton candy or Coke or Happy Meals.

And that, my friends, would be worse than death. Especially the Coke part. That is my weakness.

Unfortunately, it seems I might be headed down that road to heart attack or death or some other crappy outcome. I’m a bit overweight, and I don’t exercise. I eat the worst foods ever. And I have a family history of every bad thing in the books. I’m destined to have issues. And those issues are starting to sprout their ugly heads.

So tomorrow, I promise to not gorge on every carb offered me. I promise to pass on seconds. I promise tomorrow is the last day of this life and the next day is the beginning of a new one.

Cause if mama don’t get to eatin’ better and movin’ soon, there might not be a mama in the house.

So today I’m thankful to have a tomorrow to right my wrongs. (If everything goes as planned, of course.)

(Insert mental picture of me holding up glistening turkey leg.)

Here’s to tomorrow. Cheers.

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