I've tried to resist blogging about this, but I've decided I shall. It may make me more accountable if I'm discussing it publicly.
No point in prettying it up with any euphemisms. I'm not "big boned" or "plump" or "chubby" or anything else. I am F-A-T.
And I've resolved, once again, to do something about it.
I'm a serial exerciser. I get myself all pumped up that *this* is going to be the time that I do it. I'm going to get into the habit of going to the gym every day. I'm going to become one of those people who feels icky if they *don't* work out daily. I'm going to become one of those folks who is addicted to exercise. I start out all positive and hyped up. I go to the gym once, then the next day, then a third. Possibly even a fourth or a fifth. I don't like it any more than I did on Day 1, but at least I'm going. I feel good about what a conscientious caretaker of my body I'm finally being. Then, something happens. Kiddo is sick so I have to stay home with her for a day or two. I'm sick so I skip a day or two. Aunt Flo makes me absolutely NOT want to go to the gym for a day or five. I have an appointment or alternate plans that I can't avoid so I can't go to the gym. And then, before I know it, I'm out of the habit. Once I start skipping, it all goes downhill. Fast. The next thing I know, it's been weeks since I've gone. I start feeling worse and worse about my fat self. Eventually, I summon up the motivation to go back to the gym and the cycle begins again.
I wind up losing a few pounds, which always come back. I'm the heaviest I've ever been in my life. And to think, back in high school when I weighed 132lbs, I thought I was fat. HAH. I'd love to be 132lbs again. Not that this is an actual goal. I've tried that before - the "I'll lose X number of pounds" goal, and that is just setting myself up for failure. My goal now is simply to get into better shape. I don't want to be winded after climbing a few flights of stairs. I want to be able to run after Kiddo at the park and not run out of steam, or follow her when she's on her bike and not spend every second hoping she'll slow down because I'm panting and red in the face. I don't want to have to hold my breath and hope that the shirt I see on the rack comes in extra-extra large. I want to be able to walk into ANY store and know they're going to have something in my size. It's embarrassing. Regardless of what I'm wearing - how much I think it is hiding my body, who am I fooling? Take one look at me and it is pretty obvious, I'm fat.
Why am I fat? Simple. I'm lazy. No better reason, unfortunately. Sure, I could probably eat better, but I don't eat that badly, either. I don't eat a lot of junk food (well, besides those darn Christmas tree nougats, and thank heavens they're gone for another year). I don't drink lots of soda. It all boils down to one thing: I don't like to exercise. I'd rather sit at my computer, or sit on the couch with a book, or just about anything that doesn't involve working out. The only thing missing from my regular, daily life is a concerted effort to exercise.
So, as I sit here waiting for Kiddo to get ready for school, I am in my workout clothes. My plan (once again) is to put her on the bus and go directly to the gym. I've got my 20th high school reunion coming up in May, and I'd like to be better looking than I am now. I mean, I've never been a hottie, but I'd rather not walk in and have everyone think my greatest accomplishment in the past 20 years has been turning myself into the Michelin Man.
Hopefully, this time, it'll become a habit. Hopefully, this time, I'll be in better shape in a few months, instead of exactly where I am now. Hopefully, this time, when I go shopping for an outfit to wear to the reunion, I'll need to look for a smaller size and won't have to worry about if the top is loose enough to cover my stomach, hips and rear, if it is clinging to my thighs. (Again: who am I fooling?) Hopefully, this time it will be different. Hopefully I'll get my weight down and my stamina up. I'm not going to think "I'll get down to 132." I'd just like to see something well below 200. If Oprah can admit it, so can I.
And away I go................ wish me luck!