Posts Tagged ‘workout’

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It’s OK Val, we all fall into a rut sometimes. Even though you were once a hot, chiseled, latex-wearing tight little package of twisted steel and sex appeal, try not to let this current sad state of affairs get you down. You’ve gotten a little chubby! That’s OK! Just put down the sandwich and get right back on that hamster wheel. Am I right?

Well unfortunately, Val and I both know it ain’t always that easy. I remember what it was like to feel like a hot and sexy superhero too. It was awesome!!! Kickin some ass and takin’ names. 45 minute Insanity workout everyday, showered, dressed and ready to take on the world by 9 am? I think SO! I worked hard, I felt great, I looked good! I laughed in the face of Danger!!! I pinned a plethora of healthy meal ideas and fitness motivation pictures to my Pinterest Board. I was unstoppable!

So what went wrong, you ask?

Queue Swimsuit Season please.

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Now to be clear, I was feeling pretty darn good right around March/April. I’m always in the best shape of the year at the most pointless and inopportune time of the year. Exactly when everyone is wearing parkas and sweaters and hiding on their couches under a Snuggie, that’s when I look best in my bathing suit. Its like a law of nature. Why? Because January to April happens to be my “slow” season for cakes, and I have the time to make working out and eating healthier into a part-time job. Which, let’s be honest, it really needs to be in order to look even remotely close to one of those ‘motivational’ fitness models. The trouble with those girls, however, is that they start out looking MOTIVATIONAL but after a month or two of working out and trying to eat “clean”, the only thing all those motivational fitness pics on Pinterest motivate you to do is give your computer the finger, type “quick and easy desserts” into the search bar and forget you ever saw them.

So ANYWAY, as I was saying, I was rockin’ my bikini in April. Well I live in SASKATCHEWAN and we get approximately 2 DAYS of hot beach weather per year and they generally don’t arrive until late July. That’s a tough row to hoe, my friend. That’s basically a 3 month all-you-can-eat BOOOFAY of hotdogs, macaroni salad, ice cream and beer to barge through before arriving at DESTINATION:SMOKE SHOW in July. And if you’re willpower-challenged like me, it’s pretty much a lost cause. You see, friends, I fell into a rut.

My Rut started where most ruts do, in the kitchen, but not for the reason you think. I found myself at the end of my 2 month Insanity program at approximately the same time my busy season started gearing up. This was the perfect storm, a combination of excuses ranging from “I’m too busy” to “I’m too tired” to my personal favorite, “I can afford to take a little break and reset my metabolism.” Before you know it, my running shoes have collected a layer of dust, I’m covered in frosting, and I’m shoveling cupcakes down the hatch with reckless abandon in the interest of “quality control”.

So much for my swimsuit dreams. I take my cake breaks on the couch, drinking beer and eating sandwiches, trying not to make eye contact with the poster of Jillian Michaels taped to my treadmill. I begin wearing my yoga pants a lot. I start to try and rationalize the situation, attempting to spread a little silver lining around this unfortunate cloud of despair. Maybe all this cake will go straight to my boobs!
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Or not. My tank tops are tighter, but in all the wrong areas. I begin to lose hope. Every day that passes is another day closer to “Someday, when I feel like working out again,” and that day never comes. Welcome to my Rut. Its deep and dark and smells like fried chicken.

Yesterday, I threw caution to the wind. I caught a glimpse of my ass in the window of the ice-cream shop (where they know me by name) and went straight home to lace up the runners. Today, I groaned and creaked to life as my super stiff body tried to roll out of bed. And so, I’m back on the hamster wheel. Come on, Val! There’s room for two!

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Let’s do a brief Recap of today, shall we?

Today, I repeated the phrase, “Holy Shit” in my head approximately 39 times in 60 minutes.
Today, I laid on my livingroom floor gasping for breath while my 5 year old asked me if I was o.k.
Today, I started Phase 2 of Insanity.

Now, I have to admit that despite my “RAH RAH!” Go-Fitness!!! attitude lately, I was really kind of dreading today. On January 2, I made a promise to myself to get my ass in shape come hell or high water, and I’ve been doing a pretty good job. I got on the treadmill consistently. I counted my calories and kept a food journal, as annoying and crazy as it sounds, because I know that it’s the only thing that keeps me on track and accountable for what is going down the hatch. 5 weeks ago, I made a deal with devil, otherwise known as Shaun T, to take the “Insanity Challenge”. It was hard, but hell I was loving the results so I kept going. After 4 weeks, there is a one week “Recovery Period” where you basically do a slow, stretch/tone/yoga dvd every day instead of the crazy freak show workouts you’ve been doing for 6 days a week for the past month.

I did not do said Recovery dvd’s.

My plan was actually to use this week to get back to the treadmill and enjoy some jogging, as I have been missing it and too tired to do it in addition to the Insanity workouts. And then I went and got all crazy and disfigured my foot or something in a freak stiletto accident and I decided I better just use the recovery week to “take ‘er easy”. Which apparently also meant “eat whatever I want and worry about it later.” I still like healthy food, don’t get me wrong!!! But I was definitely affected by that strange phenomenon that occurs when you skip a workout (or 5) and suddenly don’t feel as motivated to put the cupcake down. At first, it was like, “Hhmmm…maybe I’ll have an extra scoop of peanut butter today”, and by the end of the week it was more like, “WWHHHEEEEEEEE! This is FUN! Cookies and Cupcakes and Butter Tarts, OH MY!!! What else can I eat?!?!?!”

Cut to today. Monday Morning. Day 1 of Insanity, Phase 2. This is no joke. Remember when i told you about laying in a puddle of my own sweat and maybe a little urine on Day 1 of Insanity Phase 1? Well today, I laid on the floor twitching, wondering if I was actually going to barf like the contestants on Biggest Loser. I had a brief vision of Jillian Michaels looming over me hurling Loser insults like rapid-fire. Sorry Jillian, you’re gonna have to take your condescending negative reinforcement tactics elsewhere, I’m way too exhausted to give a shit. According to the Fit Test, my fitness level has actually increased significantly since day one, but according to the look on my kid’s face as I panted and swore and wheezed, I clearly needed medical attention.

I had mentally prepared myself for this. I knew it was going to be a notch tougher than the last round. Shaun T does warn that you will have to “Dig Deeper!!”, after all. I also knew that after taking a luxurious and lazy week off, my body would probably go into shock. I was looking forward to getting back into a routine, but I was afraid. I spent the morning doing what I do best; procrastinating. I know I normally would be working out by 9:30, but I think I better make my bed first. Hmmm, the baby doesn’t quite look ready for a nap, I better just wait. Don’t want to have to quit halfway through! I think I’ll just have a quick snack out of the fridge first….. MY, oh my! Looks like the fridge could use a good cleaning! This could be awhile….

Finally I bit the bullet and just did it. It sucked. It was horrible, and hard, and I thought I was going to die. I counted down every second on the timer…ok just 30 more minutes….just 25 more minutes….dear jeesers please let me just make it to the 4 minute cool down. I was sucking air like my lungs had holes in them. The “actors” doing the workout behind Shaun T were dropping like flies. I began to silently question my motives. Did I really want to be in shape this bad? What the hell for?? Why am I doing this to myself?

Because I can. And I did. And I will again, tomorrow.

And because I have lost 12 inches off my hips, thighs and waist in 55 days, Bitches!!! BOOYAH!
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….. Oh, and 3 off my chest….BOOO!

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Does this look familiar to any of you?

This used to be me, a slave to the scale. I’d get on it in the morning. (Then I’d take a dump and get on it again…..still the same! What the hell? ha ha…..oh come on I know I’m not the only one who’s done this.) Then again after a workout. Then again before bed, because you know that’s when you’re at your heaviest and you’ll feel better the next morning when you’re a pound or two lighter! It was a vicious cycle. As a woman you also begin to learn ways to fool yourself into thinking that you’re lighter, just like Vera here. Weigh naked! Weigh hungry! Weigh after Sweating Profusely! And my personal favorite… Weigh HungOver!!!! All that alcohol dehydration really works wonders for the number on the scale. You may be feeling like someone beat you over the head with a 2×4, but Hallelujear, you’re SKINNY!

The trouble with all this weighing in is that you begin to form a love/hate relationship with not only the scale but also your body. You begin to question everything you ever knew about the science of metabolism, calories in and calories out, and just plain common sense. Tell me if this has happened to you: You work out like a crazed lunatic, or you meticulously cut back your calorie intake, or both. You’re feeling good! Pretty sure you notice a change! You’re excited to get on the scale…this should be good! Just the type of motivation you need! Then you step on, and……nothing. Maybe 1 pound. You step off and try again, thinking there must be some mistake. Nope, same results. Maybe even a pound heavier this time! You pinch your belly fat in disgust, shake your head in disbelief, and hate your body for betraying you. And then 9 times out of 10, you throw your hands up in frustration and abandon your efforts because clearly it was a colossal waste of time!

If you’ve ever watched The Biggest Loser, you may have noticed the alarming trend of the dreaded “Week 3 Plateau”. The contestants totally bust their asses and pull out amazing weight loss numbers for the first 2 weeks, we’re talking like 10-20 lbs per person per week! And then week 3 hits, and despite working out as hard as ever and watching their diets, almost all of them experience little to no weight loss. You wonder, how can this be possible? You feel crushed for these people, standing there on this huge industrial scale baring it all in front of millions of home viewers, after working harder than they ever have in their entire lives, and seeing no results. Feeling defeated. Feeling betrayed by their bodies, just like you, and me, and every other person stepping on a scale at one time or another.

The problem is that our bodies are not built to measure our self-worth, physical effort, or personal sacrifice as a number on the scale. Our bodies go about their daily business of performing millions of essential tasks that keep us alive and functioning. Our bodies work in ways we don’t always understand; storing fat when it senses a famine, raising metabolism at whim, or my personal favorite, converting fat into muscle and showing absolutely no change on the scale. Nature’s Greatest Illusionist, the human body. Showing us one thing on the outside when something totally different may be going on inside, for better or for worse.

My scale broke just before Christmas. Well, maybe it’s broken or maybe it just needs a new battery, but whatever the reason, it doesn’t work. (I once hung clothes outside to dry for over a year because I was too lazy to call a repairman for my broken dryer. It turned out to be a $10 fuse that took 2 seconds to replace.) The day I stepped on that scale and no number popped up was one of the most liberating days of my life. Since that day, I no longer obsess about the number on the scale, because I have no choice! I have to resort to the tried and true method of observing how my clothes are fitting, which happens to be much more satisfying and accurate for measuring progress anyway. I decide how much I am going to eat based on how hungry I am! What a crazy idea! I pay attention to what my body seems to want to eat, and I eat it! I no longer wait for the scale to tell me what kind of mood I am going to be in today. When I wake up and I wonder if I’m making any progress, I go do a workout and I can feel that I am. I don’t let the scale tell me if I’m good enough… and I sure as hell don’t let it tell me if I can have any more peanut butter!

I do believe that weighing yourself periodically is still a good idea in order to gauge your long-term progress. It can be a great way to celebrate reaching big milestones and goals you have set for yourself. But if you find yourself reacting like this each time you step on the scale:

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The scale is not your friend!

I know people (I was one of them) who measure their success by comparing daily fluctuations on the scale. But you must ask yourself, if you’re a pound heavier today than yesterday but 3 pounds lighter than the day before that, are you a success or a failure? Stop the Madness! Is it really worth the daily anxiety?

No Weigh, Man!!!

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Insanity has arrived. It usually visits me every day in some form or another, but yesterday it came in the form of a Fitness DVD collection and a promise that this “Insane Workout” would get “Insane Results”. Well here’s hoping.

Like so many other people out there desperate for change, I have ventured down many different avenues in a quest to lose weight and tone up time and time again. Some of them worked, if only until my love of peanut butter, marshmallows and chocolate bars won out. Generally speaking, the best results have come from the boring, annoying old “Eat Right, Work Out A lot” route, which I have to admit is pretty satisfying if you can stick with it. But even at my fittest, I was never really TONED. Sometimes thin, sometimes in shape, but never Really Lean and Toned….which brings me to Insanity. Literally.

Even though I have been consistently running every day, I feel like I need to ramp up my workout. I am in pretty good cardiovascular shape right now, but you probably wouldn’t guess that by looking at me in a bathing suit. I try to cut myself a break because baby #3 isn’t even 8 months old yet, but at some point you gotta get back on the hamster wheel and I feel like it’s probably time. I want to be healthy, have more energy, feel good about myself, blah blah blah, but the real reason I am doing Insanity is because I want to LOOK GOOD! Totally vain, I know, but whatever. My clock is ticking ladies! Looking hot in that suit is definitely on my Bucket List and this is one goal I feel like I am ready to take one final kick at.

Why now? I’ll tell you. The baby maker is closed for business and the boss is ready to take her body back. Seriously. After almost 8 years of renting my uterus and other miscellaneous sublets out to these squatters, I am ready to finally reclaim my real estate and give it a little curb appeal! I have spent the majority of the last 8 years either pregnant, nursing, or waking up every 2 hours and operating on absolutely no sleep. Stretching my body out to ungodly proportions. Riding a terrifying, hormonal emotional roller coaster. Eating macaroni and cheese leftovers and hiding under a t-shirt and behind the diaper bag at the beach. Mommy needs to get her groove back. Now that being said, my 3 little twerps may have hijacked my once glorious boobs and left me with a couple of deflated water balloons, but the rest I have to take responsibility for. My kids didn’t give me this ass, Peanut Butter did.

So……I open the mysterious brown box marked INSANITY. My fingertips are quivering with anticipation. The body I’ve always wanted is in this box!!!! It feels like Christmas back when I was a kid and getting gifts was fun and not a tortured exercise in feigning excitement and disguising disappointment. I hold in my hands the most terrifying home workout on the market, or so I hear. Shaun T stares back at me with his deep piercing brown eyes, the caption at the bottom of the picture reading, “Prepare to Get Your Ass Kicked”. Good LAAAWD what have I gotten myself into. Well, let me tell you exactly how it’s going so far.

Day 1 is the fit test. This is where you are supposed to follow along with these 3 insanely fit people and perform 8 different “moves” for 1 minute each, and record how many reps you can do. Then you repeat the test every 2 weeks for 60 days. Now I have to say, after the fit test, I was feeling a bit like a bowl of jelly but not totally out of breath, and I figured, “Hell, that wasn’t so hard. I think I should really squeeze in a run, too.” I mean, the baby was still sleeping and you can’t waste a golden opportunity like that. So being the idiot that I am, I hopped on the treadmill and did a nice leisurely 60 minute run. Wow! This feels great! What was I so worried about? I am obviously in much better shape than I thought. I actually start to wonder if I am too advanced for Insanity.

Cut to Tuesday morning. I hear the baby awaken and I turn to roll out of bed like I do every morning. Huh. That’s weird. My body is not working. I seem to be paralyzed. I wonder what could be causing this? It occurs to me that I am obviously still asleep and having one of those dreams where you try to run or jump or something and you can’t move. OK Better wake up now. I punch myself in the thigh. There! definitely felt that! Now I’m awake. OK Lazy bones! Wakey wakey Eggs and Bakee….I’ll just put my left foot on the floor, and then the right …..OH GOD THAT HURTS!

I’m feeling a little stiff! OK no problem, that’s to be expected. I hobble around slowly and painfully, getting the kids off to school. My 7 year old asks me why I am walking funny. The entire time, I am wondering how in the Hell I am going to do Day #2’s workout. surprisingly, by the time I get the baby all ready for his nap, I have moved around enough to loosen up a bit and I put DVD 2 in the player. OK, LET’S GET EXCITED! Time to get INSANE, BITCHES!!! hahahaha. The Fit Test wasn’t that bad, how much harder could this workout be?

20 Insanely Fit people are jumping around on the screen behind Shaun T, sweating, out of breath and desperately counting the seconds until the next water break. And those are the professionals! I was a puddle on the floor. If Sweat is just Fat Crying, then my fat was hysterically begging for its life. At one point, I was jumping up and down so vigorously that I actually peed a little. Yet another physical injustice I can thank my 3 kids for. But I was IN THE ZONE! the INSANE ZONE! So i just kept on going. What’s a little pee when you’re dripping in sweat already?

By the time Shaun T is finishing his last stretch, I am laying on the floor with my towel on my head staring at the ceiling fan and wondering exactly how much of the puddle underneath me is sweat and how much is pee. I try to get up and I feel like the Tin Man looking for an oil can. The baby is looking at me like, “Who are you and where in the hell is Mommy?”.

For the rest of the day, I continue to get stiffer and stiffer. My arrogant confidence disappears like a fart in the wind. I sit here now, typing, afraid to finish because that means I will have to close up my laptop, peel myself off the couch and climb the stairs to get to bed, and the thought of moving my muscles is terrifying. And you wanna know what’s really Insane? I’m gonna do it again tomorrow!

How I think I look while eating peanut butter.

How I think I look while eating peanut butter.

How I actually look while eating peanut butter.

How I actually look while eating peanut butter.

Ok so aside from raising my kids and keeping the house clean and organized and getting the laundry done and the meals cooked and building custom cakes, I also like to watch me a little Dr. Phil in the afternoon. I really think he’s a smart guy! Sometimes a little annoying and self-serving (ok Phil, how many times do you have to mention that your NEW BOOK which you wrote with your SON, JAY and is published by your SON, JAY’S publishing company is only on sale at your SON, JAY’s website? Every show? Really? ok.) But he does have some legitimate life philosophies. Here are some of my favorites:

1.”You can’t change what you don’t acknowledge.”
2.”It’s better to be healthy alone than sick with someone else.”
3.”Awareness without action is worthless.”
4. “Failure is no accident.”
5. “Sometimes you make the right decision, sometimes you make the decision right.”
And don’t forget this little gem:
6. “If someone out there doesn’t agree with me, then somewhere a village is missing their idiot.”

Oh Phil, you crack me up!

The one I’m going to tackle today happens to pertain to my distorted body image and new journey towards physical fitness enlightenment. Dr. Phil has said many times and in many contexts, “Perception is Reality”. I find this to be soooo true and applies to so many areas of life! Think about it; your child is deathly afraid of the 3 eyed monster in the closet as soon as you turn out the light. You know it’s not there, I know it’s not there, but that child is convinced that it is and it scares him shitless. No matter what you say to rationalize it,Little Johnny’s perception wins out because that is what is real to him. He knows its only a matter of time before that bastard eats him alive in his sleep. This is what my body is to me most of the time…that 3 eyed bastard monster!!!!

Case in point: I was sitting on the floor playing with my 7 month old son the other day. Happily tossing blocks around, singing songs, livin’ the dream. Suddenly, as if in a horror movie, a creature slinks across the corner of my peripheral vision. I do a double take. Surely I didn’t just see what I really think I saw. The creepy violin horror movie soundtrack builds, the volume slowly increasing as I gradually turn my head and look down to face this monstrosity, and there it is….REEK!REEK!REEK!REEK! (Insert psycho shower scene music here.) LOVE HANDLE FROM HELL!!!

OK I know I ate a little too much over Christmas break. A perogy here, a cabbage roll there. What’s an entire box of Turtles when shared between friends? Maybe I had one or two extra spoonfuls…errr…jars of peanut butter. Maybe I enjoyed the odd additional adult beverage. I knew my jeans were tight. But nothing had prepared me for the reality staring me in the face at this very moment.
“Oh Hello there,” my stretch mark chided, “Peek-a-BOO!!!!!” I poked at it like it was a weird science experiment. It jiggled. I poked it again and I swear it giggled at me! Effin love handle!!!! And you KNOW these buggers mate for life. I didn’t even have to look for the other one, I could hear it snickering around the corner. “Look at her face!” it laughed, “You were right! She really thought we weren’t here!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAhahahaha”.

I needed a second opinion. Up I went, in front of my old friend The Mirror. I thought it would be as shocked as I was. Just as I was feeling confident that it was all a terrible figment of my imagination, Mirror chimes, “Hey boys! Nice to see you again! Glad you’re back!”.

Ok so this is where Dr. Phil comes in. My perception is that I always need to improve. No matter how many times my mother tells me I look slim, or my boyfriend says I’m beautiful, or my sister says I’m crazy for thinking I’m fat, I look in the mirror and desire to be in better shape. Period. I don’t think I’m huge or gross or out of control, but like most women I see areas I’d like to improve. You can’t change what you don’t acknowledge, right Phil? And since Awareness without Action is worthless, I take action.

I got out the swimsuit, folks. Yep. I did it. I put that bad boy on and set my trusty little Cannon camera on 10 second timer and I took pictures. Face on, click. Side profile, click. Rear view, click. Delete. Click. Delete. That can’t be right. Is the camera sitting at a weird angle? Do I have the Fisheye Photo feature on? Click. Oh Goodness me, that’s really what my ass looks like from behind. In a bathing suit. Well Ok then. Would you like a side of “HOLY SHIT!” with that Reality, Ma’am?

As Dr. Phil would say, “This could be a changing day in your life!!” And so, my “Before” pictures were born and I started working out again. That day.

And If I get 50 comments on this blog, I’ll post them!!!!

I have been pondering this philosophical standpoint often these days. In the wake of the highly anticipated yet annually dreaded January 1st and all of its unrealistic expectations of resolution and self-improvement, I find myself doing the following:
1. Fixating on my less than perfect, post holiday bingeing, 3 kids later stretchmarked body.
2. Concentrating heavily on my failed plans to be a better parent, a better friend, a better person in general.
3. Contemplating my sanity.
4. Eating a shitload of peanut butter. Like, literally soup ladles full of creamy Kraft Smooth Peanut Butter.

“Seriously, she dips a soup ladle into the peanut butter jar?”. No, don’t be crazy. I just eat the equivalent of your average soup ladle in peanut butter daily, measured out in sensible, deceptively small and satisfying tablespoons. I’m not kidding. I think about it even when I’m not eating it. I think about how good it would taste with my hot creamy coffee, or after a long run, or for breakfast, or while chilling out on the couch at night watching The Bachelor. Do you think this could be a problem?

I did, really I did. I went through phases of trying to give it up, just for the sake of developing my willpower (see there’s that pesky human need for self-improvement lurking). For the sake of cutting a few pounds. Hell, just for the sake of saying I did it. Then I realized…..no one really gives a shit if I quit eating peanut butter! My Facebook friends don’t care, my doctor doesn’t care, even my ass doesn’t care! My kids love it! My Sanity loves it! My taste buds love it! The good folks over at Kraft Peanut Butter Company especially love it! So I sit here, savoring a glorious spoonful of peanut butter, contemplating my life and what it could be missing that I am trying to fill…..with peanut butter.

2013 is really no different from any other year, right? I mean we did survive the Mayan Apocalypse I guess. But in every other way, same shit, different pile. And, like every other January, I sit eating peanut butter at nights thinking about my many areas of lack….we all have them. Those creepy nasty little areas of the brain that allow us to wallow in self-deprecation. Maybe my ass is too big! Maybe nobody thinks I’m funny! Or pretty! Or Nice! Oh God, maybe nobody likes me! Maybe my kids aren’t learning a single thing from me! “Maybe I’m raising ungrateful little monsters! Maybe I really am a shitty person!!!! Where’s the peanut butter ?!?!?!
But this year, as I sit and wallow, one thing at least has changed. I have vowed not to give up peanut butter. I have at least evolved enough emotionally to understand that depriving myself of such a simple happiness will only end in the detriment of myself and those around me. And so to keep this proverbial ball rolling, I am going to scoop another spoonful and officially put into print my goals for self-improvement.

Lets deal with #1, shall we? This fixation with body image is an ongoing theme in my life. I’m sure a lot of you women and some men out there can relate. I can count on one hand the number of times in my life when I have been truly happy with my body and what it looks like, that I can remember. This is a shame, because I can look back at photos of me in the past, during times I really thought I was fat or didn’t look good, and guess what? Now I think I looked pretty good! But my mother warned me about this, so I should have listened. She’s usually right. I distinctly remember her balking at my negative reaction to a photo of myself in a bathing suit at age 24, saying, “Some day you will look back at that same picture and think “God I looked good” and wish you could have that back.” And sure enough, it happens now. All.The.Time. And yet I still am not happy with how I look. I still have not accepted myself in all my glory. I do what many of you do…I compare the size of my ass, my thighs, my breasts to almost every female I see, and rarely come up a winner. Not all the time, and sometimes I really do feel like a hottie. But that attitude is there. It’s important to acknowledge. I desperately fear that my daughter will feel the same inadequacies that I do. I want to change that. I want to be ok with how I look.
Now that being said, I still want to look hot in a bikini! I may have had 3 kids but I’m not dead yet!!! I am a huge advocate of not letting yourself go. I honestly look at the contestants on Biggest Loser and think, “How does that happen? How does it get to that point?”. I suppose maybe I’m only a few jars of PB away from that, but if you’re gonna take the bikini away from me I’m not goin down without a fight! I like a good challenge, and publicly declaring my first resolution is my way of taking ownership of the situation and really giving one last hard crack at getting a hard body. Or close to it. Or even into my skinny jeans! I want to feel good about this temple God gave me here (ha ha) and I know that for me, looking good is feeling good. Not to mention exercise does wonders for my questionable sanity. (And burns off all that peanut butter.) So I vow to publicly and consistently document my journey.

Now, on to #2. I think we all doubt ourselves socially sometimes. Do they like me? Do they think I’m cool? Would they let me sit at their lunch table if this was highschool? Which by the way is what life actually is. It’s a perpetual highschool. There are always going to be the cool kids, the rich kids, the jocks, the dorks, etc. Only now, the dorks have found other dork friends and usually make much more money than the cool kids, who are getting stoned outside the local bar behind the dumpster. Right? No? oh. ok maybe I don’t know who the cool kids are. Anyway, we all struggle with our position on the social ladder at one point or another. But what happens as you get older is that you start to question who you are. Are you a cool kid or are you really a dork? Or maybe on the inside you are one of those art freaks dying to get out but you are chained to your desk working at the Credit Union? hee hee hee. You begin to try to find yourself. You get personal satisfaction from nurturing emotionally mature relationships. You define yourself slowly by the relationships you have with those surrounding you because the quality of those relationships can tell you a lot about yourself. They are like your own little personal social barometer. Do your family members plan holiday get-togethers for days when they know you won’t be able to attend? Do you read on Facebook that all your friends got together on the weekend and didn’t invite you? Maybe you really are a crazy bitch!¬†When I reflect on my personal relationships, I realize that I am less than perfect. I lack in many ways. I am a good friend, but not a great friend. I am a caring daughter, but maybe not a super attentive one. I am a loving mother, but not always as involved and plugged in as I should be or would like to be. In general, I think I can be selfish in many areas, in many relationships. I want to change that. I want to care more and not be so self involved. And so begins the journey…..

So praise the Lord and Pass the Peanut Butter!!!! Here’s to new beginnings, growing wiser and getting better. I hope someone finds this blog and can relate to it. I’m willing to share my lunch table! As long as you’re not allergic to peanuts……