gido's lesson #7: Write things down. It is amazing how doing this helps you to achieve your goals.

Lately I've found myself to be the queen of unsolicited advice when it comes to having one's body act as a pod for an alien child and the period immediately after that pod erupts into one goopy mess of poop and pee. "What? You're thinking of trying it WITHOUT DRUGS? You should really consider the merits of taxpayer funded narcotics, especially after nine months of sobriety...What? You're thinking of a MANUAL BREAST PUMP? You should really get the electric one. That way you can pump and blog at the same time." (Okay, how many of you winced just now? I bet Brad quit reading altogether.) All I have to say is: I'm sorry for being annoying, Jocelyn. But you should really take my advice. BECAUSE IT'S RIGHT.

And I guess it's time I start taking my own advice too. I need to write my goals down if they are going to have a good chance of being realized, just like my dad taught me. And so here I am, about to write the hardest sentence of a blog entry I've ever written, because I know it might come back to bite me in the ass:

I want to participate in the CIBC's Run for the Cure on October 1, which means I have to get in shape enough to be able to run 5 km in three months.

Okay, there. I wrote it. Which means that you've all read it, which means that you will all expect an update of my progress toward achieving this goal. The only thing I've ever dropped out of in my life is ballroom dancing (twice); I hope this blog entry helps to keep it that way.

There are a number of reasons why I want to run this race. Obviously, one of them is that I need to get into better shape. I would love to blame my weight problem on the fact that my body was recently inhabited by another human being, but that kid weighed less than seven pounds. And even though I ate strawberry ice cream with impunity while gestating the little turkey, I can't really blame my excess poundage solely on that either. Because I've been overweight since I was 10. And so I have to be accountable. I like to eat, plain and simple. I like to sit on my ass, plain and simple.

I want to run this race for Boh. I need to set a good example for him. If he sees me being active, he will be more likely to be active. If he sees me make healthy food choices, he will be more likely to make healthy food choices. I had a "yummy mummy" when I was growing up, and I want Boh to be as proud of me as I was of her.

I want to run this race because I'm vain. When I go back to Regina this summer, I don't want to look so bloated next to my sister-in-law, who you wouldn't know by looking at her has been a pod herself. THREE TIMES. And I don't want to scare Krista or Jodie into not being pods either. Becoming a giant lactating boob is bad enough; it's even worse when that boob sits atop a GIANT COTTAGE CHEESE LIKE FAT ASS. And if Krista and Jodie see the cheese, I can kiss my dream of them getting knocked up good-bye.

And I want to run this race for my nieces. Because two summers ago they sadly lost their Grandma Judy to breast cancer. And I think as bad as it would be for me to lose my mother to such an ugly disease, it would be even worse for Boh to lose his grandma. So what better way to mesh two of my deepest wishes together: my goal of becoming fit, and my hope that my three little nieces will never be affected by breast cancer in their lives again.