365: Red; Seeing Red

Back in 2014, my youngest daughter set a date for her wedding.* By January 2015, having become busy, but boring and complacent, I'd gained a ton of weight - not a tonne really, but enough that I was feeling old, frumpy, invisible, and just not fantastic.

Without telling a soul, I hired a trainer, one Gloria Mohniger, through the gym I've had a membership at for 25 years. Not a member ship I'd been using, mind; just "had."

I was determined, however. There was no way I was going to that wedding feeling crap. By the time of the wedding, June 12th, I'd shed almost 25 pounds and packed on a bunch of muscle. Not to brag, but I felt I looked great at that wedding, slinky dress and all.

Very encouraged by the progress I'd made in just four months, and with the encouragement of my trainer, a winning competitor, I fixed my sights on a November competition. As an "old" lady, the idea of essentially stripping down to a barely-there bikini and competing in what's called a Grand Masters class - code for "over 50" was daunting as hell but whatever. Life is short.

So, on August sixth, when I made a quick stop at Stupid Store, a stop I didn't need to make, and slipped on a wet floor, and broke my ankle, I was, shall we say, not pleased.

I have a lawyer, who works on contingency, meaning they take their cut when the litigation is settled. However, no amount of money helps when a goal goes up in a puff of smoke. Never mind. it's January again - a year since I first embarked on this process. Today is a new day.