@aspiringmama: Sometimes? Doritos really are the answer.
Let me tell you who I am not.
I am not:
*Interested in geting over my Tofu Phobia
*Friends with my scale
*In posession of a heaf of hair that actually moves when the wind does.
*An expert in Pubic Relations (Click on the link above for this one to make sense)
*Working out right now. (I know…I know…But my Christmas cards are almot done and the tree is up and it’s preeeeeety! And, And, And? I finished and hit send on a zillion queries, mostly typo-free, so I’m busy writing a blog post as I wait for the rejections to start pouring in so I can stare longingly at The Husband’s unopened bag of Doritos while I read them because I will physically need some at that point.)
Now for what I am:
*The Typo-queen (Exhibit A? My tweet stream)
*An expert in making the Post Mama Muffin Tops and Cellulite look gooood. And? I know how how to turn a hoodie into Assmoflauge by trying it around your waist and making it look like you did it to coordinate your outfit and not hide the circumference of your badonkatonk.)
*Trying my damndest to not get discouraged by my body’s utter lack of interest in anything I AM doing right to try and shed some flab off my ass. (Damned Doritos.)
*Proud owner and curator of the world’s first social media approved Mexi-fro.
*Still looking for my point in this post.
Oh right. I wrote a book about trying to lose the weight after the baby blew out the candles on her second birthday cake. But do I have the answers? No. Do I have a rockin’ bod to show for my efforts? (Note the lack of photos in this post and assume the worst.) Hell no. Do I plan on going to the gym tomorrow? Nu-uh.
But do I want to?
Yeah. I do.
Even when life kicks me in the softly padded ass, even when emotions sneak up and make bad things sound good (like that Doritos tweet above), I am still trying. I am still wanting to better myself and provide my daughter with a healthy example. SO i almost always eat right. I don’t bitch about my thighs or my muffin top out loud. I tell her she is healthy. I tell her she is strong.
The truth of the matter is that I have health issues that aren’t making anything easier. But that isn’t saying I want it any less. And while I am in limbo, I am figuring the best thing I can do is look in the mirror and love what I see. Mexi-fro, muffin top, fat ass, and all.
If I can show my baby girl I am happy where I am now while I work on getting where I want to be, then it’s all good. And if I never get there? I need to be able to smile and laugh and hug her close when she asks if eating her dinner will make her grow up to be healthy and strong.
Because it’s all about her, people. I’m just along for the ride.