First, I decided to try on the one that hubby had picked out as his favorite last year. It was the smaller size, so I figured I was setting myself up for disappointment. I pulled the zipper up with ease, pushed my bust into the bra, and tightened the corset. I flung open the curtain, and hubby’s eyes popped out of his head.
This time it was shallow joy that caused the tears to spill down my cheeks. It felt good to reach a goal, and not spend another year wallowing in the misery of my own lack of diligence. When I get home, I’m going to get started on those lists in my kitchen drawer.
Ginger is an author, speaker and mother of five. Her column appears weekly across the Midwest.
Email her at firstname.lastname@example.org.