I'm going to be the drunk that everyone talks about...

At heart, I’m a masochist. I can admit this. I’ve never cut myself or anything like that, but pain from sports, exercise, and emotional pain, that is my stock in trade.

An ex-gymnast and a control freak, I’m obsessed with being perfect. Being the perfect daughter, sister, the perfect size two (I’m a four/six, depends), I’m crazy about Mac being the perfect weight, my clothes are organized by color (If my closet was bigger, I’d be so much happier because it would be so much more organized), getting wrinkles out of my sheets when I make the bed, keeping everything in its place, and yes, being good at my job.

The other part of being a gymnast is the pain. You practice with sore, stiff muscles, pulled muscles, and occasionally broken toes and fingers, sprained joints, hyper extended joints…my body is a veritable paradise of injuries. Toes? I’ve broken them by jamming against the bars numerous times. I’ve competed on a broken foot and a severely sprained ankle.

And when I didn’t perform up to my satisfaction, I was my own emotional terrorist. I’d cry on the way back. Blame myself for not working harder, for not squeezing my muscles harder enough to gain control of my balance on the beam, for taking an extra step on my dismount from bars, for a form break on floor.

The problem with perfection is that its subjective. It’s constantly changing. And opinions don’t quite always match.

I know all this, and still I strive for this perfection.

Then I wonder why I’m burned out, tired, without an appetite, and just plain exhausted.

Perfection is impossible.

Still I sought it out.

But now I’m tired. I’m tired of it all. I’m tired of killing myself for this impossible ideal.

I’m going to become a drunk. Then I’m going to become an alcoholic.

I’m not going to stop working out. Old habits die hard and all, and my weight is definitely something I can’t let get out of hand. In fact, I’m going to amp up my routine. The gym in the morning and evenings spent either running or doing yoga.

I plan on being in pain physically most of the day. Like I said, old habits die hard. But when I get home and all the exercising is done, I plan on getting drunk. The physical exertion will have me too tired to become my own emotional terrorist, and the alcohol will help dull the physical pain.

When I’m at work, I’ll be focusing on the pain in my legs, arms, back from the workouts and craving the love of my life, Jack…Daniels that is.

I’ll eat a little for breakfast (I’m not a total idiot), but my dinner will be one of fruit juice and empty calories. Coupled with the workouts, that should be more than enough to fight off any weight gain I might have. In fact, it might even get me down to that size two I so covet.

I’ll just have to pray that I can manage to pick up everything I need during the day, because once the drinks start coming, I’m not going to be able to get back out!

DRUNKENESS RULES!