Don't call me fatso, you fatso!

I really hate that appearances mean so much in our society. Even more so, I really hate what appearances mean to me. I hate that I hide from pictures with my son because I don’t like how I look right now. I hate that I always intend to have Techy take pics of us when I look nice – I have an 3 month old son – I spend 99.9% of my time at home looking sloppy with spit up on my clothes and my hair pulled as far away from my face as possible. I hate how hard it is to find clothes to flatter this bigger version of me. I hate how I absolutely dread meeting my brother’s girlfriend in 6 weeks because I don’t want her to think of me as her fat future sister-in-law. I hate that I feel torn between spending time with my baby boy when I need to be exercising. I hate that I am completely jealous of people who can afford the Y (where daycare is provided) or who have free time to work out during the day while their kiddo’s are napping. I hate that my treadmill kicked the big one last year right after I got pregnant…probably a result of 6 miles a day/5 days a week/50+ weeks a year/almost 3 years. What I really hate is that I thought I was fat before I was pregnant when I looked like this.



Ahh, to look like that again.

Last night I continued my journey to fitness by jogging with the hubs around the neighborhood pushing the new jogging stroller. For the record, the hubs is no more dedicated to working out than I am, so I have to be the motivator. And when I feel like stopping, he lets me. As much as I can’t stand Jillian Michaels, I need her on my butt to keep me going. Anyone wanna volunteer to be my Jillian? Anyway, ¼ mile into the run, I remembered something very important. I have asthma. Allergy triggered asthma to be exact. Which is one of the main reasons I spent so much time working out indoors on my treadmill. I was wheasing like a freight train.

I made it through the mile, though. After several stops for both me and Techy. On the upside, Little Man loved the ride—even the bumpy parts. I am planning to go running with one of my gal pals tonight, and I have forewarned her of my weakness. And then we are going out on Thursday with another of our friends. With this level of accountability, I should be back on track soon.

But I won’t hold my breath…this is a long, long road.