Thursday, May 10, 2012


Oh sigh.

I'm in a bit of a rut. Maybe not a rut, maybe more like a plateau.

Maybe a treadmill. The one where you drip and sweat and curse for what feels like hours only to look down at the numbers and go, What!?!?! Areyoufuckingkiddingme? I went nowhere?

That's where I am this sunny Thursday morning. Running in place. Seemingly going nowhere.

I'm stuck at the office overseeing painters, carpenters and various repairmen. Everyone else is off or working from home. I get to be the grown up in charge. But I donwanna. I'd rather get some work done, sip some tea without worrying whether or not these portly gentlemen are ripping apart the wrong room. But alas. Here I am.

But it's a distraction and distractions are good, because if I were working from home I would probably just obsessively refresh my gmail. Over, and over and over again, waiting for the latest news from our attorney.

This surrogacy shit. People, it's not easy.

Never mind the existential crises that come with it. (oh, and there's plenty.) The contract phase. Jesus, it's a bitch. The entire exercise is masochistic - planning for each and every worst case scenario you can imagine, and then figuring out what to do if it should come true.

Oh, and putting a price on it.

It's ugly. It's frustrating. It treads a very fine line of "oh that sound reasonable and fair," and "areyoufuckingkiddingme?" And it's 100% necessary. There is no way around it.

We've only been back and forth a couple of times with some revisions. And I suppose in the grand scheme of things, that's really quite normal. A contract, after all, should be about negotiation and compromise. A successful negotiation is one in which both sides feel like they've won, maybe not everything, but something substantial. I am really hoping for a win-win situation.

But M and I are both feeling like we are fairly close to walking.

I'm hoping that feeling fades. I'm hoping we're just tired, and ready for motion. I'm hoping that happens soon. I'm hoping this is the hardest part.

I'm trying to keep my eyes on the prize without peering too far into the future. Mel's post reminding me I will get through this couldn't have hit my Reader at a better time.

Taking things day by day, hour by hour, carpet tile by carpet tile (I should really go check on them), push up by push up.

Can we talk about the push ups for a minute?

So, the good news is, I can actually DO one now. I'm feeling stronger, better postured, a tad slimmer, but not nearly as slim as M (damn him!!!) I can't say I don't feel good and fit and strong. I can say that I had hoped for the results of working out an hour + Every. damn. day. And removing beer and pizza and french fries from my life to be a bit more dramatic. This, people, this is where I want the drama in my life to be!

M is a champ - he compliments me every day and cheers me on (when we're not screaming at each other "you're doing it wrong!" "fuck off I can't breathe" "I'm just trying to help!" "then quit looking at me!!") Yeah, I don't really think those are the chants that are supposed to go along with moving asanas....

Anyways, day 25 of P90X. Down between 6-8 lbs depending on the day. My wedding ring is loose. My shoes are loose. Gah, who knew? Chubby hands and feet? I've let cheese slip back into my life as I run between meetings and grab whatever (still no dairy or meat in the house) and I'm thinking this is the next adjustment to make. M is looking seriously fabulous. He's my hero.

Exercise. It's so crazy. You start a routine. You go through the motions. Follow instructions. Wait for results. Every day. Unwavering. Tweaking diets and habits, hoping to get a leg up. Do I get on the scale? No! No! Not yet. How about now? No! Stop! You have to wait until at least 10dpt.

Oh wait. (blush) Sorry. Wrong routine.

photo credit: me.