There is probably nothing in the world that I loathe more than exercising. I hate it. I realize that there is a bit of irony here being that I have a slight obsession with Richard Simmons. But let’s be honest. I am much more apt to sit on the couch poking fun of the dancers Sweat to the Oldies while enjoying an ice cold Diet Coke (back in my younger years it was more likely a Budweiser and a Salem Slim Light) than to actually break a glisten with Richard. Exercise takes a certain bit of athleticism, which anyone who knows me realizes that I have none. It also requires rhythm. Again, I am seriously lacking in that department.
Why in the world would I ever subject myself to this torture if I do not possess the basic human qualities needed to succeed? Because I am scared shitless of becoming that thirty-something mom who looks like it, that’s why. I have a fear of one day sporting yards of elastic in my pants and cute cuddly animals on sweatshirts. I don’t want to be known as the mom that wears the bright red lipstick because it takes the focus off of the rest of her dumpy physique. Am I dramatic, absofreakinlutely, but I am also realistic. I am not getting younger and I have birthed two beautiful babies, things just aren’t like they used to be. But before you start thinking, but it is natural and wonderful and beautiful. I am also not interested in the badges of motherhood crap. This isn’t girl scouts, this is real life. No one is gathering around the campfire to celebrate stretch marks and sagging boobs. Instead, we all lift and separate it as much as we can and move on with our days.
In addition to the exercise, I am also adopting some better eating habits. I am the Diet Coke queen of the bi-state area and quite frankly, I am certain that my insides are likely melting, so I will do my best to substitute water for my usual nectar of the gods. I am also going to eat more fruits and vegetables and cut out the heavenly french fries and grilled chicken wraps from my beloved McDonald’s. I am in no way going to deprive myself of anything, that just wouldn’t be fair. I am subjecting myself to the equivalent of medieval torture, so the food choices will be better and everything in moderation.
Alas, here I am. In an effort to regain some semblance of my younger life and body, I am starting a quest to get in shape. I don’t want to, but I am making myself. I have done this so many times before, but ultimately quit one or two days in because no one knows, no one cares and it doesn’t matter. In a refreshing new twist, I am making myself accountable. Blogging makes it real and more challenging. I am going to post it and be honest. If it doesn’t kill me, then, well let’s just hope at this point that it doesn’t kill me! Come on Colleen, let’s get it together………..