What the H*ll

Fat. I'm fat. Son a mother. Piss. Crap. Farts. Turds in a blanket. Ok now that I have done all my "swearing" let's move on. Isn't food SO good? I mean, why is it so damn good? And why do I suck at writing a blog? Oh, I know, because life happened. Again. eating quick and fast is so much easier. And so is whining. And so is not facing it. Day in and day out, as my pants get tighter and my ass gets bigger (if it happens slowly you don't *really* notice it right?) But, I find myself getting closer and closer to my old friend the deuce (that's 200 pounds for you layman's out there) and the deuce and I weren't EVER going to be friends again. She was a nasty old bitch that I was glad to get rid of. But SIGHHHHH it is a NEW YEAR and that always mean us fat girls have to make a promise to be skinny and not eat and workout til we are dead just so we can satisfy some societal image that is set forth for us. right? Isn't that right? oh. no? ok. Well, I don't want to be dead, either from being fat and unhealthy or from working out til I am dead so I suppose I should find a good medium. AGAIN. Ok, so let's get real. I don't think I am fat- I am sure with all this fat talk my husband has already been rolling his eyes. He hates it when I say that crap. Which our men should. Why do we talk about ourselves that way? We are beautiful even when we don't think we are. We are our WORST critics. It isn't about looking like the person on TV or the person next to us at the gym, or hell the person next to us in line at the grocery store getting the fruit and cheese because dammit she is healthy and she MUST be only 135 pounds and she sucks because she can wear yoga pants without looking like her butt has been hit with a meat tenderizer. BREATHE. You are you and I am me. I am 5'4, probably too damn close to 200 pounds. I am no longer healthy. I was, but I am not anymore. I can tell in my digestion, I can tell in my clothing, I can tell in my breathing. THIS is how you gage your fitness. Well, in my opinion I guess. lol I don't claim to be some fitness champ, just a chick with an opinion. Plain and simple, you will never be the person next to you on the treadmill. You will be you. And you have to be happy. So, me being me is knowing what I need to do. Back to basics. I wish I could afford to get back to the old kickboxing routine I used to have, but I have to find another way to be active. Sometimes there really isn't enough time in the day to make everything work- at least to drive to another town for a workout that is a half hour away. I think there is a conspiracy against the county I live in by the way, we are destined to be the fattest county in Iowa, there is literally no where to work out!! I need to have Jillian Michaels live with me. Problem solved. I have 2 weddings to go to this year and I don't want to be busting out of a dress (because dammit I am going to wear a dress) and I definitely don't want to be that girl wearing a pantsuit- because out of my husband and his friends I out age EVERYONE by at least 7 years, some as many as 10 soooooo yeah, fat AND old? SIGN ME UP! :)  (well, unless the pantsuit has shoulder pads, then quite possibly I could be interested) So, let's try this again, who knows what will happen. I don't want to fail, I don't want to be unhealthy- I don't even care about being skinny! I just want to feel like I used to! I want to be able to run, I want to feel STRONG. That is what I miss, feeling like I could seriously kick someone's ass. Not that I would, gentle soul of mine. ;) But at least I could if I wanted.