Just one year ago, I decided to get less fat. Unlike every other time I’ve decided to change my gluttonous, hedonistic ways, I was pretty serious about not facing 30 in absolute misery. Unfortunately, I am fundamentally lazy, and I like to eat more than I like just about anything else; hence, the baby weight that stayed long after my babies became toddlers, and finally little boys. I am sure my husband can tell you how many times I “started” to diet or exercise, and he can also tell you how quickly thereafter I told him to pick me up some ice cream on the way home. Mmmmmm…..Dublin Mudslide…..
But I digress. After figuring out just how to approach my inner-sloth, I started to see some forward progress. I was doing great, but when I started work, I worried that the weight I’d lost would hop back onto my thighs faster than you can say “fruity pebbles.” Luckily, my glacially slow approach to changing my lifestyle seemed to keep me under some semblance of control.
Well, heck if it didn’t pay off, because Bayou-Mama started this year a full 52 pounds lighter! That’s right sister, I am down into the jeans I wore as a sophomore in high school. Nothing like sweet, skinny victory to make staring down the big “3-0” a little less traumatizing.
While I bask in my scale-happiness, I have also come to realize some disturbing realities:
- Even after losing the baby weight and more, childbirth has ensured that some things just DO NOT go back to the way they were before I gave birth to my 10-pound heathens. I am seriously rethinking my stance on plastic surgery as I stare down a stomach that looks like a blob Freddy Krueger took a turn at it. I would have to win the lottery first…oh well….
- My skin is not as elastic as I thought, and parts of me look downright weird and floppy. You should not be able to play with your skin like Silly Putty.
- Losing weight in my face also left some skin to spare, so my smile-lines now look like smile-canyons. Now rethinking Botox as well….
- I still like to eat more than I like just about anything else…but once I conjure up how good it feels to buy another pair of size 8 jeans, I can usually exercise some self-control. Except at the Drive-Up Daiquiri…
I may be a ding-bat in just about everything thing else I do, but as I look at my scale, I get to have a few moment to think, “I Rock!”