OK, so there’s New Year’s Day, the annual blip of fitness hope and nutritional new beginnings for chub-challenged chicks.
Then we have the seasonal anniversaries of resolve and renewal, like “Yikes! Bathing Suit Season’s Just Around the Corner!” Day (May), and “Help! I’m the Size of a Woman in Labor!” Day (September).
But when it comes to serving up a collective experience for bodacious broads throughout New Hampshire and across the universe, there’s one hands-down winner: Mondays.
Fifty-two times a year. No exceptions.
Food oopsies of the weekend have come and gone. Monday morning’s alarm pierces our dreamy slumber, and a wave of dieter’s dread tells us it’s time to buckle down and shed some pounds.
Ambitious exercise regimens course through some of our brains. Weekly meal planning is the go-to rite of passage for others.
Details aren’t as important as understanding this: Every female – and I do mean EVERY female – with any unwanted beef on her skeletal structure whatsoever, considers some kind of weight loss regimen on Monday mornings.
There’s a theatrical sweep of the psychological slate. Inner monologues are channeled as merciless drill sergeants or broad-shouldered, square-jawed women named Helga.
“That’s it. I’m serious this time.”
“Cabbage, celery and fiber-infused cereal or bust!”
“Two hours a day – 1,000 crunches, 5 miles on the treadmill, full-circuit free weights and a good 30 minutes on the bike, elliptical or Stairmaster. Grrrrr…”
Breakfasts are skipped. Cookies are sworn off. Fat clothes are scowled at and told they’re not long for their closets.
Plan’s in place. Strategy’s bulletproof. Fate as a fitness goddess is signed, sealed and just waiting to be delivered.
For those first few hours on Monday morning, women are proud and happy. There have been no slip-ups – no binges, no skipped workouts, no surrender to fried, salty lard sticks.
From 6 a.m. to 11 a.m. on Monday, women from Jaffrey to Djibouti, from Berlin, N.H., to Berlin, Germany, are thinking, “This very well could be the first day of the rest of my flat-stomached life.”
And it could. Except for one, small thing.
And even if Tuesday keeps the same rules and momentum as a flawless, faithful, perfectly executed Monday – a feat of grand proportions! – then Wednesday has to come and go. And Thursday has that after-work networking thing. And Friday there’s dinner with the Swinsons, then brunch on Saturday and your in-laws are coming over for dinner on Sunday, and they ALWAYS want bread, dessert and wine, at the VERY least…
But thank heavens for Monday.
Monday – the day all diets and weight loss plans could be “the one,” if only for one fabulous, fleeting jiffy.
(I’d write more, but it’s 11:10 a.m. on Monday right now. I have to go eat something before I pass out.)
Care to chime in? E-mail Lani@TheBroadAppeal.com.