Not a superwoman, but a real girl- filled with excitement, emotions, extenuating circumstances and family obligations… in the midst of holidays, visits to 2 different Grandmas who are under the weather, and housework that never stops… who is foolishly trying to write 2 books of completely different genres, keep up on a blog (which I really don’t mind) and the heaps of emails she receives from women who need encouragement…who is trying to keep her love life hot with her hubby, short people in her house from killing each other and who need endless amounts of bandaids for survival because of invisible booboos…who has to get through 5 (count em) 5 holiday celebrations and face her evil foe of pecan fudge and divinity…
What exactly can she do in 10 weeks?
Because that is all the time that I have. And the goal is being delivered as we speak. Tracking says that it is somewhere between here and Kansas. This is the goal.
It’s for the show I told you all about a few days ago. Remember me saying that Matt gave me an opportunity to step out of my comfort zone? Well, everything looks good so far, and as soon as we get the final word tomorrow night, it will be a confirmed go. And that is when the real fun begins.
Not because of the pages and pages of lines we will have to memorize. Or that we will have to rehearse often. I’m looking forward to that.
No, what worries me is that for some reason in my hairbrained Lucille Ball mindset, I had the brilliant idea that I should be in the land of the 150s when I perform. Which gives me exactly 10 weeks to lose between 11 and 20 pounds. Do the math and you will see that I am still hanging on to 170.
So I have 10 weeks to get unsuper me whipped into shape for my return to stage after a 4 ½ year absence/hiatus. Last show I did was “Chicago” when I got the dream role of Roxie Hart. A plump Roxie Hart.
But this show requires more. It says in the script that my character, Sally, is thin. THIN!
So I did the most impractical thing I could think of to get me on track.
I bought a costume that is too small for me.
That ought to do it. Right?
The dress is a size 10. “I thought you were wearing size 10 already, Charlie!” And yes. I am.
But not in shirts. They are still clingy on my size 14 belly/boob combination. And I still have a barrel chest problem. I have to shrink more. For the sake of the theatre.
This might actually be the swift kick I have been needing. Because if I can get down to a reasonable 155 by show time, I can strut my stuff with confidence. Actually, it will have to wait till after the show, because the character is unassuming and rather mousey. But I’m not. Once I step off that stage and become Charlie again, I can rejoice that I pulled off such a feat.
Me. The princess of UN-SUPER. (Thank you Shannon for inspiring me with that phrase. I needed it! lol)
I’m going to work out a rigorous schedule for working out, figure out a diet plan, and fill everyone in.
But for today, I’m gonna look at that picture of a too small dress and let myself get scared. Because dieting takes a hefty amount of fear (pun intended) for it to stick. For me to be willing to make the changes necessary to get me from a “size 10 jean only” to a “size 10 vintage dress.” Remember my babbling about changing my shoes and finding some red vinyl thigh high boots to wear?
This Princess of Un Super (PUS) is looking for her boots.
I will update you soon, but for now you should know that I am sweating bullets.
And that’s not a bad thing at all…