I have a long fuse, especially with myself.
But when the patience runs out ... stand aside. When I make up my mind to do something, it gets done. Nothing can stand in my way.
That includes my stomach.
I gained 10 pounds during my two-week tango hiatus. This is a good thing.
But since I decided to go back to tango, my stomach has gone Woody Allen.
I skipped Blue Ice Monday night, weenied out at the Turnverein on Tuesday. I've lost five of the pounds that I gained.
My stomach doesn't understand something.
I am going to tango. But I am not going back.
I have lost patience with that self-demeaning self.
The mutiny is over. I am turning this boat.
1.25 hours to a brand new tango class. Time to start primping.
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2 comments:
I wish I could be as brutally honest and/or determined with mine as you have been with yours.
Could it be also true that it is not minding the size of our stomach but its size in our own mind? and maybe it is not as bad as we think!
Regardless of the above, I wish you my best with your personal self-note.
Dear MilongaCat:
Hello again!
You are exactly right--my nervous stomach is all in my mind. That is to say, my nervous mind is all in my stomach.
My Inner Woody Allen lives in my stomach. But he has received an eviction notice.
BTW, Milonga Cat, I loved the post on your blog about dancing on the platform while waiting for the train.
C
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