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Friday, June 4, 2010

How did I let this happen?

I resolved to take my kids to the pool once a week this summer. Yes. Me. I don't swim, and I don't do fun. My husband does the fun stuff, but he's in school. So if it is to be, it is up to me.

My suit is too small. I squished into it and went off to the pool. Walking past the mirror in the bathroom, something inside me died.

I say all the time that I don't mind being fat. I don't. I really don't. Except when it keeps me from doing things. Hence the desire to get fit so I can do things like go to Mesa Verde and take the very reasonable hikes.

But standing there in the pool bathroom, oh how I minded being fat. Thought of my kids having a fat mom with them at the pool. Hating myself for letting this happen. I'm so blue. This is a tough process. I'm even bluer than when the nurse from my doc's office called the other day and said I had to exercise more because I'm not making fast enough progress with my weight loss. I'm exercising as much as I can handle already! And if I lose 10-15 pounds this summer, I'll be thrilled!

All I want to do is lie in bed and cry in my Pepsi and eat some Kettle Brand Crinkle chips, black pepper flavor. But since I have to squish into the suit again next Thu or Fri, I guess I'll just get this little tearfest over with and go back to work.

Compromise. I'm letting myself have a real Pepsi. Don't tell Lindsey (my coach). :) Back to work...

8 comments:

  1. Bathing suits just don't hide anything. Good for you for taking them swimming!

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  2. blue. poo. i solly.

    wendy's changed their fry formula so i don't want them anymore. am i mad at them or secretly thrilled?

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  3. Grace, bathing suits are the suckiest nudity-covering device known to womankind. Mine has a little skirt to cover my...er...assets. Makes me look matronly, but couldn't tell you when I got old enough to even *think* that word (whispering, "matronly". In case you forgot.)

    I say, put the darned torture device on, pat yourself on the back for being a mother who's taken her kids to the pool (don't qualify that unless you use the word TERRIFIC), and hop in the pool. You may not like swimming, but it does count as exercise (BONUS!).

    (I also think that crying counts as exercise too, so I recommend that if you're going to cry, make it loud.)

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  4. It's one of the rules of life - no woman is ever happy with how she looks in a bathing suit - not even the lollipop head women. Rule two is no woman at all except Daisy Duke ever looked good in shorts. No one else will even think about what you look like a swim suit. The kids will be having fun and every other woman there will be too paranoid about her own shortcomings. Go to the pool and have fun. You can do this, you are an amazingly strong woman and you're getting there!

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  5. Chin up, Darlin'. Progress is progress. Control what you can and forgive what you can't. Life's too short to beat yourself up over things (like metabolism) you can't control.

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  6. The nurse who called you should be shot. Not making progress fast enough? $%@# her! MAKING progress, fast or not, should have seen her commending you, not criticizing you! Lemme at her, why I oughta *grumblegrowlthreateningmumble*

    You are making progress, and THAT is what matters. And yes, swimsuits are uniformly evil, hideous things that should come with invisibility cloaks. I second what Nell said--everyone else at the pool will be too busy worrying about their own thighs to worry about yours.

    Chin up, girl! Keep up the good work!

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  7. I love you guys! Thanks for the encouragement!

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