Mission Competition

You know you’re going to lose, right?

Whatever! I’m already winning!

You all know that if I wanted to, I would win this competition, hands down!

Our family loves friendly competition. Our expertise with trash talk often causes guests to question our relationships, until we burst out laughing! When our son left on his mission, I began a health contest between all family members.

Partly because I wanted our missionary to stay in shape during his mission—little did I know that he’d be in the best shape of his life due to so much walking! Also, because I wanted to maintain the fun family banter that is part of our family’s dynamic.

When we began this contest sixteen months ago, the rules were a bit fuzzy. They were something along the lines of:

Whoever is healthiest wins.

Whoever wins picks out the losers’ outfits.

Losers must wear the said outfit to the amusement park. In public. All day.

Now that we’re eight months out from deciding a winner, we’re getting a bit feisty about the particulars of the rules!

Our missionary, who is walking a bazillion miles a day, thinks he should win.

My husband, who is stuck behind a desk all day, but eats healthier than anyone else, think that diet should determine the winner.

Myself, who loves to eat pastry, but exercises like a fiend thinks we need to run a tough mudder race to determine the winner.

Our daughters, loyal friends that they are, agree with Mom. They know that I will take them with me to the winner’s circle, as we’ve made a pact that if one girl wins, we all win!

Which leads me to our next point of contention: the loser’s apparel.

Our missionary has hinted that the losers will wear farmer’s overalls … perhaps with boots … perhaps with straw hats … ugh!

My husband, who refuses to wear Halloween costumes, has forbidden any loser outfits. We’re ignoring him. The losers will absolutely be wearing outfits, including himself! (We’re pretty sure we can get him to do it if he’s matching our missionary.)

I and my secret cohorts (ahem, my daughters) have decided that onesie pajamas will look fabulous on our men! We’re leaning toward Batman onesies; however, unicorn onesies are still a favorite as well.

When this contest began, two long years stretched before me. No worries about the extra twenty pounds … okay, okay, it’s quite a bit more than twenty! However, since it’s my middle-aged belly we’re discussing, I would like to claim a bit less than is actually there. Please? To get back to the point, I had two whole years to lose this extra, pastry-fed weight!

Now I have eight months.

Time to get serious and start eating salads for lunch. Ugh. Counting calories is not my favorite activity. I would like to think that no one in their right mind LIKES counting calories; however, my sister and my girlfriend both geek out about calories and eating so many of protein, so many of carbs, blah-blah-blah.

Again, ugh.

It may be time to up the sabotage efforts. You see, throughout his mission, every time we’ve sent him a care package, I’ve included sweets. However, our missionary is a master at redistribution!

He has shared with companions, children and even with sister missionaries in his district having a rough day. (This last one was done anonymously as a “Gift from Jesus” left on their front porch.)

I am grateful he is giving and kind; however, these qualities are not helping me win this contest!

I must re-think my strategy. Perhaps, as in all areas of life, I can only change myself. Instead of strategy, I should apply discipline. This way, even if I have to wear overalls in eight months, they will be a smaller size. That will be a victory in itself!