BUT, if you decided to make that bread? If you moved that frost-bitten bag of dough torpedoes? There would not be a pint of Butter Pecan and a half-eaten pint of Bailey's Irish Ice Cream with bites taken out of the carton because that shit is just so delicious. Just sayin.
I am not here to whine about my fat. Never fear. It is not interesting to me to listen to that BS, either. (Especially from my gorgeous 16 year-old stepdaughter who is still troubled about going from last year's size 2 to this year's size 5.)
I don't actually fear catching a glimpse of my naked body in the reflection of the shower handle. It is a body that has produced and fed a baby. It is a body that is 28, not 18. I get it. It is actually still a nice enough body, in the right stretch pants.
I would just like it to be better. Stronger! Less smooshy around the edges in every way! More able to fit into the jeans that it wore last year, without the rending of fabric or the snagging of my flesh in the zipper.
We eat pretty healthily around here. Our refrigerator contains drawers full of vegetables and raw foods and omega 3 fatty acids. (That fatty acid drawer is a bitch to clean, lemmetellyou.) There is not a preponderance of junk. Probably the worst sins committed upon our children are hot dogs and ramen noodles. Possibly a freezer pizza now and again. I have a thing for rosemary and olive-oil Triscuits, which have a lot of salt in them.
It actually helps that we just can't afford junk food. When you can either buy a bag of oranges or a box of cookies, but not both, it's pretty easy to not be an idiot about that. (The Hagen Daas pints were BOGO, and somehow fell into my cart while I was angry/hungry shopping. DONT JUDGE ME!)
I have even cut out my self-soothing baking habit in effort to improve our collective diet. Carl has a baked-goods-shaped hole in his heart where previously there had existed banana bread and chocolate chunk cookies. He casts mournful glances at the oven, like this:
....and has suggested that, though he does not now love me less, he would probably love me more if there were baked goods.
Our problem is that we don't move around enough. Carl is too beat from work to actually do more physical activity in his free time (har har), and I just haven't figured out that thing that will work for me that is also free. If we had sidewalks, we would walk. But we live in the windy-twisty country road land of imperiled pedestrians.
Any ideas? Anyone giving out free bikes?