Motivation

11 August, 2011 at 8:36 PM (Uncategorized)

I have this video clip in my head.

I’m walking down the aisle of a Safeway in Melbourne, toward the liquor shoppe.  I’m wearing four-inch pumps; he can hear me coming but he doesn’t know it’s me.  “That sound,”  he thinks while nonchalantly turning around, his rich brown eyes observing the black brushed suede of my pumps.   As his eyes to continue their journey, I take another step toward him, barely breathing.  His eyes sweep up my calves, the hem of my silky black figure-hugging dress brushing my thighs about four inches above my knees.  His gaze travels quickly to my eyes, recognition not yet evident, sweeping back down to the creamy swell peeking over my tastefully cut bodice.   With a mischievous smile and twinkling eyes, I tilt my head back, a throaty chuckle emanating from my barely parted lips.  He’s mesmerized.  His jaw is slack, his white teeth flashing behind lips barely evident through his thick black beard and mustache.  I reach out, placing my fingertips under his chin, closing his mouth.  “Hey there,” I say.  “Hey there,” he says.  I hear him take a very deep breath, his broad chest rising perceptibly beneath his starched white finely tailored pinpoint oxford.  He reaches for his collar, a couple of fingers disappearing behind his tie, tugging slightly to loosen it.  Our eyes meet again and the air crackles around us.  I feel the palm of his strong calloused hand graze over my hip before he flattens it up against the small of my back, gently nudging me closer to him.  When he exhales, “Donna”, my name whispered so softly from his lips, I’m lost.

It gets WAY better, trust me.

I’m not just a Mom.

I still dream of my knight in shining armor, coming to my emotional rescue.  But I replay this little clip in my head now and again.  It’s motivation for me.  Don’t get me wrong.  It’s not my ONLY motivation.  Losing weight is something I’m doing for ME.  I want to be healthy and fit.  But I’m a woman.  I need the reflection in my mirror to match how I feel inside.  It’s what I want.

I distinctly remember the shift in my thinking when I became a mother.  I call it “Mommy-mode”.  Inherently female thoughts went to the wayside.  I honestly didn’t know how to be a woman AND a mother all at once.  Maybe it’s because I wasn’t married to the right man.  Whatever it was, it eluded me for many, many years.  If you’d asked me what my dreams were between the ages of 21 and 35, I would have honestly told you I didn’t have any.  I wasn’t allowed to.

I dream now.  I want to become an English Teacher.  I want to teach English to children other teachers and even their parents have given up on.  I want to spend my summers in Italy and Spain, soaking up culture.  I want to be a Nonna!  I want sweet nothings and loving embraces.  I want a wrap-around front porch with two rocking chairs separated by a chess board, always a game in progress which I’ll lose but he’ll win, his eyes twinkling with delight as he whispers, “I love you, Donna”.

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