Day 1 - Something you hate about yourself

So why don't we start this 30-day journey on a real downer. I suppose then everything beyond this should be up. We'll see.

Let's start with the obvious. I don't like that I'm overweight. I don't like that I don't have the perseverance or determination to consistently do anything about it. So I remain many pounds overweight and continually beat myself up about it.

But, do I hate that about myself? No, I wouldn't use the word hate. The word implies hostility, disgust or revulsion. I feel more disappointed in myself and embarrassed...not so much by my body, but what it says about my lack of fortitude. I think I've grown beyond self-hate, thank heavens, because there was a time, particularly in my 30's, when catching a glimpse of myself (specifically the back of my upper arm in a sleeveless blouse) in the mirror in a department store dressing room would reduce me to a red-eyed, snotty nose blubbering idiot.

My nose. I have sort of a little bulbous-like thing at the end of my nose and, at one point, when I was young I thought about having a nose job. At least, I thought about it until I saw photos of other people after having a nose job....like right after, with bruising and stitches and all. I didn't really care for that phase, so I decided a nose job was not completely necessary for my continued existence.

The skin on my 64-year old upper arms is beginning to sag. So the day in 2001 when my co-worker, Kerry, asked me what my goal in life was and I replied to live in Florida and be a sun-tanned, saggy, wrinkly old lady who walks on the beach every day...well, I'd like to take back the saggy, wrinkly part now. And, I've noticed lately that my hair is starting to thin a little. Gulp.

What else besides my physical appearance bothers me about me?

I can take a political point or issue and run it 4 times around the park until I've exhausted every minutia, at which point Tom will look at me and wave his hand about 6-inches above his head, meaning Over The Top. Simply stated, I sometimes just don't know when to stop.

I don't like that I don't have the motivation to finish painting the house. I just finished the cabinet doors yesterday, but it took me over a year to do it. Now I have to finish painting the walls and the built-in shelves in the den, the kitchen ceiling, all the trim in the house, our bedroom, the office, etc., etc., etc. You see, I'm sick, sick, sick of remodeling and I can't seem to move beyond being sick of it to get to a place where I feel motivated again. And once again, there is that issue I have with motivation and the feelings of self-disappointment that follow. Hmmmm.

I don't like that I worry so much. Sometimes it's so bad that I can't sleep at night. I wish I could just accept what is and hope for the best, but instead I make myself sick thinking about the worst case scenario.

Okay, I know what you're thinking. Just stop! Buck up! Pull yourself up by your boot straps. Attitude is a state of mind! Yep, I know all that. You think I don't say all those things to myself every single day? If it worked, I'd be slim, toned, taut, unwrinkled, happy-go-lucky and living in a completely renovated house. But apparently, that's not how I roll.