the fat girl works it out

OK. So, let's see how well I write with a baby on my lap. Here goes.

I hadn't been in the Y since August. We bought the membership January 2008. I was not intentionally one of the throngs of New Years Resolutioners. I joined because I needed moments of sanity in the midst of my mothering and I hoped the Y [with its childcare offer] would give that to me. It did. I loved it. Then I got pregnant and felt like crap. Working out became yucky and I quit. Also I grew weary of bundling up three kids, dragging them to the Y, unloading them, walking slowly into the building, signing them in... etc, etc, etc. Any excuse would do, those were the ones I held up as my "why I don't go" banner.

Then, on Monday, Hubby asked if I would go work out with him at the man gym [a.k.a. the base gym]. I tried to be polite as I scoffed, "what? work out at the gym where it's 98% buff men? I'm sorry, Honey, but no." The next day I asked about working out at the Y instead. He checked with his supervisor and that's how we ended up at the Y. At six am.

Anyway. I walked. Thirty minutes. It felt good. I did get bored after the first 15 minutes or so had to use creative thinking to make it through. Hubby wanted me to lift weights with him. I couldn't. I used to do that. Sixty pounds ago. He so wanted me to. All I could think about was how fat I am. How it would look to see this rolly-polly, fat, ugly body lifting weights. The athletic looking men crunching away didn't help. What if they think I'm fat? Wait, I am fat. But, I couldn't stand the thought of them secretly making fun of me. So, Hubby lifted weights alone. I loitered in the lobby. Chatted with Skinny Secretary. Read the bulletin board. Debated on joining the 5k. Ha.

OK. So, there's a solid post. Baby is fussing now. Must go. Bye.

titles of the missing posts... have time for titles, but not posts...

Yeah, thanks, I'm "fine", Serenity. Thanks for asking. You're sweet.

I have had several urges to post, but my many children have kept me away from computer/reflection time. Here's some titles of the missed-and-may-never-be-written-posts....

"I Hate My Body"

"I Worked Out at the YMCA Today"

"I Could Only Think About How Huge My Stomach Was During Sex With My Husband"

"I Am Terrified I Will Be Fat Forever"

"What's The Point?"

"Is the Thin Within Approach Right For Me?"

Yadda, yadda. So, see, while I might not have been "here", per say, I have still been thinking about all of you. Perhaps I will get a minute to sit down this weekend and share more than my titles. Until then... ya'll be good. Whatever that means.

not me monday

Monday, monday. Another round of Not Me! Monday thanks to the wild and crazy MckMama. Check it out here.

FAT GIRL CONFESSIONS

It was not me who bought two boxes of Girl Scout cookies, knowing my ability to consume the entire contents of said boxes. Not me.

It was not me who gained seven pounds last month. Not me who was in denial the whole month of February, convincing myself that my pants were looser... Wish it really was NOT ME.

It is not me who thinks about food while brushing her teeth at the end of the day. Not me who has to come to the sad realization that I won't be eating any more today. Wouldn't that be weird? Who does that??

It is not me who sadistically watches the infomercials of skinny girls with great abs. It is not me who snarls slightly while they jump pleasantly around the TV. Not me who simultaneously wants to be them and wants to kill them at the same time. Well, not kill them. That's too harsh. Perhaps just wish a twenty pound weight gain on them... Or not. Hee hee.

it hurt to fall off the wagon today

I fell of the wagon today. I lost my "care" and threw it all away. I ate whatever I wanted, as much as I wanted... You know, it really just started around 2pm. What happened?? I have been searching inside myself asking what flipped the switch today.

Yesterday was a hard day. I found out that a sweet young girl's husband left her a month ago. Out of the blue. He spent two tours in Iraq and has been suffering with Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. One month ago, my little friend came home to find her husband's things gone. She doesn't know where he is or what he is doing. He has called her twice. He says he still loves her but is afraid he will hurt her.

She told me this at another friend's baby shower. I was bowled over. Numb feeling. It rocked me inside and made me feel sick. Made me want to run home to my husband and feel his arms around me.

Perhaps this sadness swirled around and pushed me over to the food bar. I don't know.

I get Alicia over at her 2009 Weightloss Journey. I get being tired of the fat. I want it to magically disappear, too.

But it won't if I keep eating like I did from 2pm to 10pm today. Humongous SIGH. Did you hear it?