I got a text from a friend recently that informed me all the tweeting I do about being at the gym. In her own words, “Tweeting about working out makes you sound like you think you’re better than the rest of us. Not everyone wants to look sick, Julene.” And to this I said, “And not everyone wants to look at rolls hanging over your vanity-sized skinny jeans. <3″
… female friends of mine have to have thick skin, I think.
To be fair, I do talk/whine a lot on the internet about exercising and dieting. Except I’m fucking terrible at dieting. Look at the joy so plainly painted across my face in the photo above as I eat a sammich made out of Nutella, mashed up bananas and marshmallow fluff! Seriously though, I don’t want to be fat. I’m in that weird near-flat stomach region and I have finally accepted I will never make it over that hump. Why? Because I love food. I’ve been trying this Body for Life diet which really equates to eating tiny meals the size of my fist six times a day. My fists are small, my hunger is fearsome and post-workout all I want is a whole bag of pistachios.
I partially call off the battle against my hips & stomach. That doesn’t mean every time I’m hungry I’m going to eat, or that I’ll stop equating the number on a scale to my worth as a human being. I think I’ll just quit hoping that I’ll ever wear a size 28 and content myself that this sweet set of child birthing hips will never be put to their intended use.
Sidenote: if any of you happen across a sweet lululemon hookup let me know. I figure nothing will guilt me into gym attendance like a pair of spandex pants that make my ass look good like whoa… especially if I dropped $100 on them.