I took my measurements today. What am I? Insane?! The me inside my body doesn't feel fat. I don't feel 38 years old either. Last night, we looked at pictures of our two oldest girls when they were small, and I feel the way I looked then. But I'm not.
And it sucks.
I hate the way my body feels in clothes. Course, I hate being out of clothes even more. Things that fit me right in one place don't fit me right in another. Everything truly is moving south. And spreading. And saggy. ICK!
So I went to another aerobics class this morning. Forced myself. I kept up with the fifty-somethings in the back of the room while girls my age were moving like there was nothing to it, like it was a party. They smiled and laughed. Their faces weren't bright red. They could breathe.
It doesn't do any good to trash myself, and that's not really what I'm trying to do. I guess in a round-about way, I'm trying to encourage myself that I can be more than I am--or less, as the case may be. It's a backhanded compliment.
I have to live one choice at a time. Turn down one cookie at a time. Do one exercise at a time. It's hard to be patient for the little good choices to add up and show some results, especially while I want to make bad choices. Those cookies look good.
But I'll turn them down. One at a time.
And remember, you have your family and a whole blog list full of people cheering for you!
ReplyDeleteAmy... thanks for your candidness! And I loved the FHE post about Elder Bednar... Mark and I have been trying to be thankful for everything... even the trials becuase we've noticed that with time... sometimes a whole, whole lot of time, even the trials turn out to be spectacular blessings... so we thanking in advance on the trials... trying to change our perspective! You are awesome!
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