It's late evening. I just put the girls to bed. Kurt is away at a funeral.
I've started a few pieces of writing, but they're just not happening. I'm not feeling inspired. How I am feeling is achy and fat.
I've gained weight over the past few months.
I'm finding it hard to focus on everything right now. I constantly feel like I am being pulled in a lot of different directions, barely any of them actually sanctioned by me. Both of my children are going through a time in their lives where they need me A LOT, in different ways. Every single quiet moment I have, I use it to write or read.
I've stopped getting up at 6am to go to the gym. I was taking the girls to the gym playroom in the afternoons which was AMAZING... but then Louise decided that she suddenly hated it in the playroom and started throwing a fit as soon as I leave, and 5 minutes into my workout they page me to retrieve my drooling, screaming baby.
I've also started eating stuff all day. Have we talked before about how much I like baking? And fancy coffee drinks? And that a Trader Joe's opened up in my neighborhood?
I feel like I've just given up on myself. Well, not on all of myself, just the physical part. I structure everything about my appearance to be low maintenance. I mean, so low that I could get away with not showering for more than a day if I have to. I have no time or energy to care for myself. I'm in a demographic of people who just can't focus on appearance. We're too busy KEEPING CHILDREN ALIVE to put on make up. At least that's the way it feels.
I've also been feeling anxious, lately. We've been going through some medical things that have me up at night. (Don't worry. Everybody is fine.) But, my nerves are raw. I haven't been sleeping well.
All of this is exacerbated by the fact that I've been eating too much, eating sugar and not getting enough exercise.
The truth in all of this is... I've been feeling pretty miserable and bad and just kind of blah in general. I've kind of been living in an oversized boy hoody that used to belong to my brother in law. I've gained 15 pounds. I don't want to lose 15 pounds, though. I want to lose about fifty pounds. Fifty nine, to be exact.
Fifty nine is a lot.
I hate focusing on weight loss. I hate counting calories and logging fitness minutes and thinking about food in terms of it's mathematical breakdown. (Yogurt is yogurt, people. Stop calling it a "protein".)
I hate how getting healthy should be a totally organic and honest kind of thing where you eat when you're hungry and you move around a lot because you're a person and that's what we're meant to do... but instead, everybody feels like if they want to lose weight, they better sign up for a dieting website and buy a bunch of rice cakes, or whatever.
Being anal and overly organized and restrictive about things doesn't work for me.
I need to do this, though. I need to be serious about it and show up to my beautiful friend's wedding in August as a totally refreshed, youthful, vitalized, healthy, slim looking bridesmaid.
Lately, I've been feeling the opposite. I don't want to feel old and sore and tired. I don't want to eat up all the Jo-Jos and blame Kurt. I want to just be in control of myself. I want to feel like at least ONE of the directions I'm being pulled in is a path I'm actually choosing. I don't want my body and my appearance and my energy level to be a casualty of being a busy mom. I want to be, I don't know... springy and full of life. I want to make a little gun with my fingers and say kapow at myself in the mirror after I get dressed in the morning. I want my neck to not seem too thick for dainty jewelry. I want to not feel like a bulky nerd with a mohawk. I want to feel like those stupid posters of a silhouette of a person wearing biking shorts on a mountain top.
Is it okay if I talk about food and exercise and my weight sometimes? Or is that like... totally boring to you? (Don't fool yourself into thinking your answer to this question actually matters. It's like when I ask my husband which color of paint he likes better for the bathroom, and then I pick dazzling lime green anyway.)
I'm thinking that I'll do an update once a week, on Sunday, about my progress. Next week I'll show you the dress in my closet that I want to fit into.
I have 38 weeks to lose 59 pounds. (I'm using my friend's wedding as a goal date.)
Wish me luck, or commiserate with me or give me tips or something.