I have very righteous news to report. I have spent the last eight days actively trying to improve my physical health. This may not seem like much to some, but for this gal, who has spent the last 33 years of her life on a gradual weight incline, it is tremendous. I have attempted this before, and eventually end up forgetting that I am trying to be a healthier me, and relapse into the carb-smothered lazy pool of life. Well, for now I am doing it, one day at a time for as long as I can. Today I am eating spinach salad and running on the treadmill. And it feels awesome, like I need a large medal or something. Maybe I'll make myself one.
The funny part about being a person who is neither naturally thin or fit, or fitness inclined (if I'm being honest) is that I completely forget about how unhealthy I am for months at a time. I sometimes walk by a mirror and think "Who is THAT?" and then am sent into a momentary panic when I realize that "Oh shit! It's me...uh oh". Other times I am completely shocked when I am running around with my kids and am completely out of breath after two minutes. "Who's lungs are these? Certainly not mine..." I try on clothes at the store that are three sizes too small for me and then am outraged when they don't zip up "Who makes these pieces of crap anyway?" I think I might have a problematic case of inflated self-esteem, it sometimes keeps me from keeping it real. Or maybe denial is a powerful and all-encompassing force.
Well, I hope this time it lasts, one spinach leaf at a time. I want to be a healthier mom for my kids, and I want my pants to zip. I don't want the heart attack at 50 like my mom, or the diabetes that runs so rampant in my family. I may be back into the grilled cheese soaked haze of my regular life next week, but for now I am feeling righteous and I am trying, and that's all that matters.