When I needed to get my financials in check, it involved a massive overhaul of what I thought about money.

It became apparent that what I considered “luxury” was something that was not only unrealistic, but it was silly.  Over time, I came to teach myself that luxury would not be defined by large tvs, elaborate homes, fancy cars, or name-brand clothes; I now define luxury as the freedom to buy food when we need it, to stop for gas without doing math in our heads, to be sick and afford medicine or a doctor’s visit.  Luxury is now defined by freedom and options, NOT by things.  Which, I think, was a huge turning point for me.

Now I need to find the same thing about food.

It’s going to take undoing of YEARS of believing the wrong things.  Since I was 18, I’ve tried every fad diet in the book.  I’ve worked hard to yo-yo diet, and Lord only knows how much money I’ve spent on the various diet trends.  I’ve lived on Diet This and Low-Fat That and Sugar Free SomeMore and you name it, I’ve probably spent money trying it.

And?  I’m kind of done.

Because what inevitably happens is that it’s NEVER as good, it’s ALWAYS crappy, and I RARELY feel happy after eating it.  It doesn’t fulfill ANYTHING I need from food.  Am I the first to admit that I enjoy food?  YES, I AM.  I’m a foodie.  I LOVE food.

So my New Year’s Goal to stop eating diet food has been an awakening for me.

Of my fad diets, the two that have been the most effective were the Atkins Diet and the Reverse Diet.  When I stopped to ponder why, it’s because: it’s REAL food.  Real food.  I loved the food that I ate.  And when I was on the Atkins Diet, I loved the food enough that I didn’t feel the need to gorge on it.  Same thing with the Reverse Diet.  I ate the food that I wanted, no guilt, and I was happy about what I ate.

Let me caveat it all and say that I still try and make wise food decisions.  I’m not living on Krispie Kremes, no matter how much I want to.  But if it comes to using real butter versus margarine, or full-fat cheese instead of no-fat soy cheese? DUDE, that difference makes the food worth eating.  Whole milk has been a welcome addition to our household.  Real, honest food.  And when we eat this real food?  We’re not hungry enough to sit and gorge.  And we don’t feel guilty about it.

It’s a new way to look at food.  One I desperately needed, and one that will reshape 2010 for me.

There are times when I just can’t help but feel like a huge, oversized, some-other-word-meaning-gigantic failure.

(Okay, look: I’m not needing a million “attaboys” or “no, you’re not!”s or coddling of any sort, so don’t feel compelled.)

(I mean, I love you all for your need to coddle me, and sometimes I like it, but I’m just saying that I’m NOT putting this out there to fish for compliments.)

(Mmm.  Fish.)

I was all about training for a half-marathon.  I was.  I was all about it and for three weeks or so, I totally did it.  I ran anywhere from 12-17 miles a week, and got long runs of 4 or so miles in.  I did that.  I DID IT.

But then?  I didn’t.  Do it.  So much.

Running was just too hard.  And I know I was just at that cusp where if I had just kept at it, I would’ve had the breakthru where suddenly 5 miles is not too long anymore, but I didn’t hang on long enough.  I got sick, the baby got sick, we all got sick, and then there were parties, and dinners, and COLD, and..

.. and I just stopped holding myself accountable.

And I know that, especially in the written form, me admitting that here sounds fleeting and insincere, but I really and truly had an entire dream about it this weekend.  I dreamed that I literally went to New Orleans, roomed with Linda, and everything I said just visibly annoyed her (I don’t think she is at all this kind of person, btw, but she also had a pixie cut in my dream, so she clearly was Linda in another dimension), and then?  THEN I LIED ABOUT RUNNING THE RACE.  I had an entire dream based on GUILT. 

And then one of my good friends announced a while back that he was coming home for the month of December, and I knew that he runs, so I mentioned that, Hey, we should go running! and now HE’S HOME AND JESUS GOD, HE WANTS TO RUN.  And he’s all But I only run a nine minute mile, so .. and I’m all NINE MINUTE MILE IN MY DREAMS! ( .. but not really because even in my dreams I’m a horrible runner, obviously.)

Also?  I don’t like running in the dark.  And before you start getting on your soapbox about safety while running at night, IT’S NOT THAT.  It’s the fact that the last time I went running at night, I stepped IN squirrel roadkill.  Like, slipped.  And almost fell on my ass into said squirrel roadkill.  Fresh.  Yes, let THAT seep in.  They don’t cover THAT in Running Safely at Night, do they?

I figure I’ll run while he’s home.  At the very least, it will keep me honest during the holidays instead of ballooning up (which is what I’m inclined to do).  And hell, maybe my time will get better?

Half in February, though?  Rethinking that plan. 

Other stuff I’ve failed at here lately:

• Sleep
• Taking maintenance sinus medication consistently
• Remembering.  Anything.
• Taking off my makeup before bed
• Forcing all family meals to be eaten at the table
• Routine oil changes

I know we’re supposed to be buck up and be strong and GIRL POWER and all of that crap, and I think that we all do, most of the time, usually without any heralding or provocation.  But I also think that, sometimes, we need to just wave the white flag and cry surrender and help ourselves to some more chocolate.

Then lace up the sneaks and hit the pavement.

Edited to Add: While writing this post, my running buddy said that he was going to workout during the day today so running with him tonight is optional.  I think this is a test.  What Should Sarah Do?

• A giant sequined glove
• Frankenstein
• Mario and Luigi, as chased by
• Wario and Donkey Kong
• a Giant Wedge of Cheese
• WOMEN WITH STROLLERS