Wow, has it really been almost a month since I posted? I actually did post, about 20 or 30 times. I just somehow never managed to get them typed in. Most of my best ideas for blog posts happen on my treadmill, and that's just not the best place to be jotting things down to blog about later. The last time I tried to multitask on the treadmill I whacked the garage door opener, slammed into the side of the treadmill, lost my balance, fell off the back, and landed in a pile of paint cans. Sad, but true story.
And speaking of the treadmill, I've been thinking a lot about self-image lately. My own, my daughter's. My own has been shaky at best for a number of years. Not that it was ever fantastic, but having a child definitely tossed me off the "you can be sexy if you just arrange the clothes right" bus. Now it's "you can be sexy if it's completely dark in the room". Not a fun bus to ride. And so I plod away on my treadmill 3 nights a week, trying to make some dent in the extra layer my daughter started, and I fine-tuned with cookie dough and Cadbury creme eggs. And it helps. I have more energy, I feel better. I even sleep better. But hey, I still had to buy a pair of pants this weekend that was two sizes bigger than my usual size, and about 4 sizes bigger than I was in college. Ugh.
It used to be that random people would compliment me on my appearance often. I don't mean to sound arrogant. But, I was actually pretty darned cute. Not to mention the fact that my clothing was usually designed to maximize reaction (read: kinda skanky). I was used to compliments, and usually responded to them with overly dramatic bows, snapping of fingers, and sassy head shakes.
These days, those compliments are few and far between. And when they do come they are such unfamiliar territory that I react to them with panic, immediately blurting out something inappropriate or even just bizarre. I had a cat like that once, who would quietly (but with devastating effect) fart whenever he was picked up by someone he didn't know very well. As a defense mechanism, it was pretty damned effective. Not many people were willing to pick him up more than once.
My daughter, when complimented (which is often, as I am in awe of her fabulousness, even when she is being a pain in my ass), simply smiles. Happy to be appreciated, glad to be on the receiving end of a compliment, but not in any way in need of one.
If I could figure out a way to bottle it, I could afford that personal trainer I so desperately want.
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2 comments:
Hey, at least you weren't at the gym when you fell off your treadmill! 'Cause that happened to me once. Your workouts ARE making a big difference in your appearance, by the way. Whatever pants size you are now, you are a FIRM pants size, unlike my flabby ass at the moment.
By the way, did you know my mom is a certified personal trainer now? Betcha I could get her to swap some of your fabulous food for a training session or two. Maybe I could ask her if she'd do a personal training party for us or something!
I hear ya! I am doing Turbo Jam, and so far? I love it. It's nice to look forward to working out, and I actually feel like I might be able to stick with this where I've given up on other workouts before. It's really too early to tell, but I do enjoy myself.
Good luck getting to a size that you're happy! I've got a long way to go. But I didn't get fat overnight, so unfortunately I won't get fit again overnight, either. Bummer.
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