Sometimes I’ll take a super great selfie and I know it looks like the body attached to the face is a size six…at the max…which is a total falsehood. Being extremely self-conscious of my weight means I don’t want to go to the doctor or even use a free personal training session. This self-consciousness and insecurity kept me from joining a weight loss competition that my sister started. I know I need to lose weight, but I don’t want anyone to “know my number.”
Self-conscious to the point of…I don’t even know what.
If you’ve followed this sporadic journey (I definitely haven’t been writing for 31 days in a row), you know I’ve been eager to get a treadmill into our living room and that I won a challenge from my husband to get a gym membership.
Ideally, I wanted the treadmill. There are several times during the day that I feel the need to get up and stretch my legs, but walking in the house is annoying and the outside air is still humid and ick. These are lame excuses, I feel it as I type them. If I really wanted to exercise, I would do it no matter what. The super-competitive side of me that turns into a roaring lion of force when I’m focused on a goal doesn’t even wake up when it comes to weight loss.
I feel like I can accomplish anything I set my mind to…and have proven it in other areas, but with this…
I feel defeated.
However, the case of treadmill vs gym membership has been decided. My sweet husband really didn’t want a treadmill in the living room. However, the clock ran out on making a decision. After I “threatened” to have one delivered from my true love Amazon, there was finally some forward action and I’m now a proud member of a local gym.
But I don’t want to go to a personal training session. Can’t let them see me as I am, you know.
I meant to go this morning but I overslept. Not a great way to start the day!
So many of my comforting childhood memories revolve around snacks, holiday meals, and pizza Thursdays. It’s when we came together. The majority of our other meals consisted of eating Hamburger Helper alone at the kitchen table or sitting cross-legged with siblings on my parents’ bed watching Nickelodeon.
I think a lot of kids in my situation went through the same thing. My parents both worked and I made a lot of meals for my siblings…hot dogs, chips and sandwiches, Hamburger/Chicken/Tuna Helper. We ate a lot of fast food because it was easy for my mom to pick up on the way home.
Last night I sat on the couch with a bowl of watermelon cubes in my lap and thought about how childhood impressions carry all the way into adulthood. My best friend in high school loved to eat cold watermelon out of a bowl as a snack–something I’d never done or even thought about. Snacks at my house were Little Debbie or “refrigerator cookies.”
Even as a mother, I find myself defaulting to pre-made food. I hate that I do it, but there is something inside me that finds frozen pizza, chicken tenders, and mac and cheese to be the standard. Yet I feel like I’m winning since I won’t let the kids eat bologna. What is wrong with me?
This is an area I want to change drastically.
So that’s where we’re headed. I have a freezer full of chicken tenders, DiGiorno, Uncrustables, and bags of frozen veggies and chicken breasts that I pretend I don’t see when I’m fighting a craving for junk food. Which is often.
However, I want to be a good role model for my boys, I want to be sexy hot for my husband, and I want to look good when I speak at events. I don’t want to be the chubby girl, the fat mom, or the person who can’t control herself. I want better. I want to be the woman I see in my mind, so it’s just a matter of discipline and consistency.
Welcome to the real world.
Other Posts in this Series
Be sure to check out my mom’s #Write31Days Challenge as she tours through Green Gables.