I'm having a string of ugly days. As in, the days themselves aren't ugly, but *I* am. It's unpleasant.
It's about not being able to lose 10 pounds - like seriously, I cannot shake them. I'm waiting until the fall, when I see myself having (finally) the sort of schedule where I CAN exercise on a regular routiney basis to say, "Hey, maybe the crazy pills aren't helping." I don't feel like I've done my best yet. I'm either exercising well or eating well, I have yet to be doing both at the same time, the three kids on three different schedules doesn't help me take care of my own self, so I haven't gone there yet. I'm open to the idea that the crazy pills make it HARDER, but not IMPOSSIBLE. I'm waiting on that one. I managed to lose most of the baby weight before I was on my full dose of meds, so it's a definite possibility.
It's about growing out my hair. The other day I said to Phillip, "I think I'm going to grow out my hair" and he got this look on his face that will make it very very hard to go back on that comment. My husband has never EVER said a single solitary thing about how I cut my hair or what I wear or how much I weigh (unless I'm asking him!) and he would never ask me to grow it out. But that look... I mean, you want your husband to think you look nice, right? And if he thinks I'd look nicer with long hair... EXCEPT GROWING OUT YOUR HAIR POSITIVELY SUCKS. It's only been a few weeks of "maybe I'll grow it out!" and I already hate everything going on on top of my head. People with super fine super straight hair should not be in a shaggy in between place. It seems like it will be eons before I reach the goal, which is my friend taking me to the Korean hair salon where they will put a very slight permanent wave in my extra long no-more-grays hair and I turn into a Disney princess.
It's about not getting outside. Emma's walking which is SO SO SO SO SO GREAT. I mean, it's super great. Everything is so much EASIER now that she's walking. But she's still not that confident outside so even when I want to go water the plants in the front yard I have to wait until Phillip gets home or she's super occupied with Molly inside, because she shrieks and hollers at me if I leave her standing alone in the grass. We can't go on the deck because it's not really a deck right now. We can't play in the backyard because it's full of dangerous deck-building things. We don't go for walks because our neighborhood is lame. And if it's none of those things it's raining.
It's about watching all the super fit athletic moms check their kids into childcare at the Y so they can go kickbox something or work on their ab definition. And I can't even TRY because my kid throws a holy fit if I leave her in childcare.
It's about realizing there's no stinking way I'm going to reach my weight loss goal (Fit Into Old Pants!) by our trip to Cabo in August.
It's about being the fat friend, the fat sister, the fat daughter-in-law. It's about how even though I used to be nearly 30 pounds heavier, I am ashamed and embarrassed that I can't lose another 10.
I hate thinking that the only thing that will make me feel better is losing the weight, finding a good way to wear my hair, fitting into my favorite post-Molly skirt. That there's nothing else, not my husband saying flattering things, not my friends looking at me like I'm crazy, not knowing that God is uninterested in my pant size. I hate feeling so vulnerable to this, Get away from me, Ultimately Not Meaningful Surface-Level Body Angst!
Two beautiful ladies.