I Just Hope I Keep the Donkey Booty...

I remember the conversation plain as day which is amazing since most days I barely remember my name.  I was at the bar with my mom and we were laughing with the female bartender who said something to the effect of "Chocolate - I laugh in your face.  I can eat whatever I want!"  I agreed with her and my mom said "just you wait until your metabolism slows down - then we'll see who is laughing!"   Being all of probably twenty four at the time - I probably rolled my eyes at her, slammed my drink and went traipsing off to the bathroom to see what I could hit on in my path.  I was tiny, cute and didn't have a weight care in the world.  I ate what I wanted and never thought twice.

I HATE when anybody is right - but especially my mom!

I had a period around thirty five where I ballooned out.  Everybody asked if I was pregnant and had to explain - No I'm just fat - thanks for reminding me.  Little did I know at the time I was pregnant and my little bundle of joy was the reason my boobs became something to marvel at even though the rest of me wasn't so much so.  Once I had Gman and started breast feeding, the weight melted off and for the first time ever I was a size 6 AND a C cup. I have been a size 6 before, but I had a tiny size A cup and padded bras so thick they could stop a bullet to make objects bigger than they appear. Yes, I would stare at my reflection the windows as I walked beccause I jiggled for the first time ever.

Then it happened.  Acute pains in my side.  I felt like a band was squeezing the life out of me.  I couldn't breathe.  I was running around the house looking like Melissa Gilbert portraying a young Helen Keller.  Not a politically correct description, but it is the closest visual I can create with words.  A trip to the ER and an ultrasound confirmed I had serious gall stones and that bad boy needed to come out.  A week later I was minus a supposedly useless organ and it was all down here from there.  The weight slowly crept back, but there was nothing I could do to lose it.  They say the gall bladder is kind of useless, but apparently my metabolism was linked to it. I allowed myself to fall into the vicious cycle of I'm depressed  because I am gaining weight, so I'll eat which will put on more weight which will depress me & rinse and repeat. So now at the tender age of 42, I am the not the heaviest I have ever been, but teetering on the brink of heading back there.

So in name of wholesale changes - one part at a time - I did the unthinkable.  I joined a gym and yes I did hear the collective gasp.  I realize that as I get older, the weight isn't going to come off any easier.  I realize that even though I do live in the most skewed society when it comes to looks; I may be stuck here for awhile and a size 12 is considered huge here.  I don't want to rock the fat chick tankini this year.  I'm tired of the really cute dresses not being so cute in an extra large.  I'm tired of not even getting a second glance when I go out with the girls.  I need to justify the $70 I just spent on new running shoes and the fact that they are pink and grey isn't justification enough.  I don't think I lost my mojo - I think it got swallowed by weight. 

So I have grand plans for my workout.  Zumba classes for cardio and strength training on off days.  I shall try to get my butt out of bed early to hit the gym since the evening doesn't always work when I am hijacked by Gman.  If the weight comes off, my running will be easier too and I won't feel so damn winded after two minutes.  My only fear is losing my boobs which unfortunately go down with the weight and my butt.  While I am not fond of the stomach roundness - I do enjoy my womanly curves!

I could also have possibly taken stalking to a new high or low depending on your perspective.  My housemate goes to the same gym and has offered to help me work out to reach my Union Jack bikini goal (although he doesn't know about the bikini goal).  I mean it is the name of friendship he offered and my asking for his help since he is a gym rat who works out twice a day had nothing to do with the fact that I MAY still have a SMALL thing for him. I need to get fit. We are just friends and the gym deal was too good to pass up since I still have income tax money left over.

You believe me right? 

Right?

Well no matter what - we'll see who has the last laugh when I reach my starting goal of size 7/8.