Here's what I'm really bad about. Breakfast. It's not that I don't like breakfast. I mean, hello! Bacon? Buttery toast? Fresh fruit? Fried potatoes? WAFFLES?!?
But, still, I can't seem to get myself in gear enough to eat that stuff while it's still morning, let alone make it. When morning comes, the habit is to hang around in bed and read or write until it's not reasonable to be there any longer. When I do hit the floor, I hit it running. Laundry, vaccum, write some more. On work-away days, I keep the covers pulled up to my chin until the last possible second, and then I rush, rush, rush to shower, gather my things, check email, put on my makeup, check email again, put on shoes, take a stroll through social media land, then run to the car with, if I'm lucky, a cup of yogurt or a granola bar or an apple in my hand. Usually not, though. Usually, I don't eat breakfast until...well, until lunch.
I know, I know. Don't tsk tsk me. I don't know why I do it. I think it's guilt. I think that, because I love food, I can't allow myself the pleasure of eating before I get the "important" things done. Food equals pleasure, and I don't deserve pleasure if I haven't earned it. Messed up, right? Don't think I don't see it.
There was a period of time when I forced myself to eat. Told myself it was more important to feed my body than paint my face or answer email before work. But old habits won't easily let you leave them for better, younger, more attractive habits, unless you have a really good game plan. My game plan is to keep almonds, pistachios, pomegranates, clementine oranges, bananas, little cups of applesauce, and fig bars on my desk. And then I make myself stop what I'm doing and eat them. If I'm being very disciplined, I make myself eat them sloooowwwly while doing nothing else, except maybe reading. When I do that, the rest of the day (surprise!) goes much better.
On good days, I can follow a healthy routine. Get out of bed. Make said bed. Eat food. Clothe myself. Write. Hug my kids. Write. Tell someone I love them. Write some more. Call some people. Clean a few things. Eat again. Listen to a podcast. Read. Shower. These are simple things that improve my quality of life instead of letting life run away without me, yelling "nanny-nanny-boo-boo" as it races to the sunset.
Lemony Snicket said, “Morning is an important time of day, because how you spend your morning can often tell you what kind of day you are going to have.” Then again, John Kennedy Toole, author of A Confederacy of Dunces, said, "I avoid that bleak first hour of the working day during which my still sluggish senses and body make every chore a penance. I find that in arriving later, the work which I do perform is of a much higher quality.”