No More Mrs Sweet Cheeks

Dear Me,

It feels weird writing a letter to myself but the time has come. I can no longer be resigned and therefore, it is time to resign. Word play. You're good at this. Punnage is your forté. The application of the literary is something at which you are more than proficient. Comes naturally, you could even say. It is also something to which you devote time.

But now that time is needed elsewhere.

I don't want to be gloomy because I love you. But I don't think that you can go on this way. You're what, 51? It's not old by any means but you are getting on. I mean, you're writing about it a lot so it must be on your mind. (You are your own muse, it would seem. Slightly immodest, isn't it?)

Let's look at what you've been noticing: Aches. More time needed to recover. Lines. Puffiness and adversely, sag.

Signs.

These are all physiological prods, unsubtle hints that are pointing to decline. I know, it's pretty shitty. You know that, I know that. But it doesn't have to be this way.

Actually, I lied there because it is going to be this way. I know that you'll never have cosmetic surgery or use fillers or have implants or whatever else is on offer to give you the face and the body beautiful. You don't ever want someone to think "What the fuck have you done to your face?" like you do every time you see Simon Cowell. Other people can see the lines and the age and the experience and wonder why you've not used serum but ultimately, accept you for who you are and who you appear to be.

Is it me or is there something creepy about the word "serum"?

But, for fuck's sake, woman, you could help yourself a little more and I don't know why you don't! Like eat better. You're lucky because you sleep well but you don't do a lot to help yourself. What about some exercise? You know that currently you're carrying around the equivalent of another small person every day? Do you know what that must be doing to your joints? You're not a fucking marine on exercise with something to prove or on some endurance reality show! You could shed that weight and feel so much better for it.

So why don't you do it? I sit with you, day-in day-out and I think Why? Why aren't you doing more to help yourself? Where does this inertia lie? You say that you love me but everyday I watch as you give into temptation, placing sweet things on your lips, eating too much of the wrong thing and the only exercise you do is turning the page of a book or lifting the remote. Maybe some housework and cooking, at most.

I don't get it. When did you decide that you were worth giving up on? I wasn't aware of it. From my standpoint, I thought that you were your own champion but those that care don't subject themselves to such obvious disregard of the signs as you do.

Pains appear for a reason, you know.

Ah, you know this already. You've always been cerebral rather than athletic. You've always been about working your mind rather than your body. I know that. But what concerns me is that what you love the most is contained in a vessel which is wearing out and you are flagrantly disregarding the maintenance that is needed for the upkeep. Not only that but there is so much that you still want to achieve, and your boys? What about them? You want to be there for them, don't you? Imagine the future, a future where you are not in it. Henry graduating from university. You're not there. Charlie getting married. You're not there. Your first grandchild...

Don't become a warning tale that Dickens would be proud of.

I just don't get it. I really don't. It's time. You need to stop. Or... let's not be negative. You need to start. You need to think about longevity and believe that it can be yours. You need to visualise yourself as someone fit and vital rather than the little barrel that you are now.

Dammit, there's so much more to do, isn't there? You know this yourself! All those things that you want to try or places that you want to see or bands that you want to hear or art that you want to applaud. There's so much yet and you know this. I know you do because it pulses through you every day, the thought of the future and where you'll be, what it holds. It's your own personal dreamscape, yet to be realised. Don't you want to be there?

The difficulty I have is that I know that you can do it. I know that you can orchestrate change. I have faith in you because I know that when you really want something, you dig deep inside yourself and you find that resolve and you rarely deviate from your mission until you've got there. You have determination, maybe not in spades, but it is a resource within you that you can tap into should the need arise and let's face it, the need has arisen and is very much sitting on your doorstep, panting and waiting for attention.

It's time to address the elephant in the room and I'm not referencing you with that comment. Elephantine you are not. Small baby rhino, maybe...

I'm penning this resignation letter on your behalf because today we are starting on a different road. The road to better health, better eating choices, finding time for exercise as a given and just taking care of yourself.

You wouldn't expect a car to run well with zero maintenance, would you? Well, you are that engine and your onboard computer is starting to flash up faults, faults that could have been avoided.

And so, with immediate effect, I resign from "Sweet Treat Eater Extraordinaire" at Deeming Villas; I will take on a voluntary role of "Strength Exercise Co-ordinator" along with "Healthy Menu Planner."

My previous job has been a role I've enjoyed for many years but the time to feel my ribs again has arrived and it's farewell to knee ache and swollen feet (hopefully). It has been a considerable career over many decades, one at which I can honestly say I have excelled and entered into with gusto. I am looking forward to my new roles whilst also resenting them slightly, knowing that they will be something which I will enjoy a lot less. However, I am keen to stay here on this planet for a long time yet and am prepared to commit to this lifestyle for the rest of my life, long may that be.

I can do this. I can say goodbye to sweetness (but still remain sweet).

Farewell, cake. Farewell, shortbread round. Farewell, choccie biccie. It's been wonderful to consume you for so long but in a bid to stave off diabetes and heart attacks, I say a mournful goodbye to you.

So long and thanks for all the crumbs. See you at the cake table in heaven.

And to finish, here's to me. Here's to feeling good about myself in every way. Here's to less middle, more energy. Here's to healthy alternatives and clearer skin. Here's to bright eyes and even brighter ideas.

Here's to feeling proud of myself and increasing that well of self-belief. Here's to being a role model. No need to raise a glass but I will take the applause.

Here's to me. Long may I live.

Sincerely,

Mrs Sweet Cheeks