Here’s the thing about being skinny. I haven’t been for a long time. Not so long that I don’t remember fondly of what it was like, but long enough to forget what clothes sliding effortlessly on, feels like. I never used to think about if I ate this or drank that where it would go. I just knew that it would disappear. Then I had kids and it became all too evident exactly where everything was going.

I do love food. Making it, eating it, etc., but I’ve never truly been an over-eater. I eat like any normal person. If normal people eat once a day and any scraps their child leaves behind on their plate. During the day I’m too busy feeding and cleaning up after my toddler that eating seems like too much of a hassle. Which begs to question, just how many calories do I consume each day from eating my child’s scraps?? Hmmm. That’s one to think on.

Anywhoslebees. I know it’s summer and everyone is working on their “summer bodies” and all, but it sure does seem to be contagious because each time I open up social media I have twenty different adds of thin, fit little women, crunching, squatting, contorting and bending all over the place. img_1657
Just the kind of encouragement a big girl needs, right? More like a stellar way to make me that much more body conscious. All of these fad workouts and body boot camps that have you moving so quickly that you’re on the brink of blacking out, all to have a firm behind. Yoga? I mean come on, I haven’t been able to put my feet behind my head since I was a teenager. If I tried it now, I’m fairly positive I’d be permanently stuck in that position. I have been thinking to myself that it’s time to try and shed this extra weight. With a bad back, conventional workouts are a no-go so I have to find inventive ways to get the same high effect at the lowest level of impact. It also doesn’t help that coupled with those get fit ads, is post upon post of the most mouth watering recipes from the tens of food sites that I follow. A little bit of self-sabotage. After I wipe the drool from my mouth after watching some ungodly chocolate cake being made, I reluctantly break out my medicine ball and go to town on every exercise that can possibly be done on or with it. Surprisingly enough, there’s just about nothing that you can’t do on these things! I have developed deep crunches, squats, side crunches, push ups and so much more with this fabulous ball.

My husband never wants to use it. Possibly because he thinks it’s for feeble old ladies like me. He’s also probably right. But Facebook sunk its claws in to another unsuspecting victim and even he has succumb to a thirty day fitness challenge. He came to me the other day asking if that challenge at all seemed to be working. Actually his exact words were, “Do I LOOK like I’m losing any weight, because I feel like I’m getting bigger?” I laughed at his question as he stood before me shirtless with the look of desperation in his eyes almost pleading to hear some words of encouragement and I honestly replied with, “Well, your pecks are much bigger and your arms and shoulders are too, but you don’t look thinner.” I know… I figured open with two positives to soften the crushing blow of the negative. What you have to understand is, I can’t lie. If he had said this to me, I would have been grateful for the truth. I never ask the question of “Do I look fat to you,” to anyone. I know the answer and I don’t need anyone else to tell me. In fact I have adopted the policy of not asking anyone anything that I cannot handle the answer to. The last thing I need is to end up crying into a bag of potato chips.img_1658
After my blunt observation of my husband, I asked him what his workout regimen consisted of. He told me what all he does each morning while I am fast asleep and loving life. On a side note, I was kind of shocked that all of this goes on so early in the morning and I didn’t even know about it! I challenged him to try his same workouts using the medicine ball, to get a wider range of motion with each movement. He said, “Yeah I guess I could try that,” which usually is his way of saying, “No I’m not doing that.” He’s very stubborn, but he will happily appease me by telling me what I want to hear.

The next day he was complaining about how sore his sides were. I asked if his butt and gut challenge was finally kicking in and to my sheer amazement he told me that he got my medicine ball out and did the workout I told him to do, and was surprised at how much harder and more effective it really was. I felt the need at the time to say confidently, “I told ya so!” And so I did. I’m sure he gets tired of hearing that phrase from me. If I were him, I would too. Either way, it worked and I was happy to help.

I just remembered that I made a vow publicly, months ago that I would start working out again. Needless to say, I did not deliver on that pledge, for many reasons but nonetheless — I failed. My four year old however has taken up her own type of weight lifting. She yells, “I gotta do my exercises,” and runs to grab the broom from the kitchen. She comes back, holding the broom steadily above her head and proceeds to do deep squats while grunting like the broom weighs more than she does. Then she lays on her back and bench presses it making the same loud groans of pain. Now, I’ve seen this kid lift a cooler with ice in it, so I know the extent of her super human strength and I know this broom comes nowhere near her capacity of lifting, but it’s hilarious to watch. My other daughter is tall and pencil thin without trying. I’m in a house surrounded by freaks of nature. The four year old can’t help but be fit and the thirteen year old, she just got great genes that seemingly skipped me. Some days I am embarrassed to be alive. When I eat at places I feel like people are watching me chew and thinking of how little I really need that hamburger I’m chowing on.

I open social media and everyone is posing for selfies like it’s a modeling competition that they’re fervently auditioning for. I don’t want to be thin, I want to be fit. I’ve never been thin, but I’ve always had muscles. Until now. Now they’re hiding under layers of midnight cookies, pasta and cheese. Oh how I love cheese. Next week I have to be at a poolside family reunion, in front of people that some I haven’t seen in years in a swimsuit and I want to die. Just thinking about it gives me a stomachache. Don’t get me wrong, I have looked forward to nothing more than this reunion, but not so much to the being barely clothed. What’s worse is there will be the best food known to man served up at this thing and I have to pretend to not want to gorge on loads of brisket, pulled pork and sides, like a fat kid at a cake buffet.img_1656
So here I am staring down at the medicine ball again, hoping that I can shed these 40 extra pounds in a week. I’m sure I can do it… Maybe if I get a bad stomach virus and just keep exercising through it? I’d have to sit all day at a hospital or day care and pray that I come back home with something life threatening. My luck I would get sick, work out and wind up gaining twenty pounds in the process. I don’t know. It may be just another pipe dream of mine. Forty pounds in a week…pffft. On the plus side my cannonball will be epic this summer! A thing of legends. I think I’ll just pack some board shorts and a tank top and call it a day! To all of you freaks of nature that don’t have to try in order to be thin, happy eating! To those of you who get my dilemma, put the fries down.