I have gained...ahem...a little weight. It ain't purty. And, frankly, I have no excuse except
ME LOVE FOOD
ME LOVE COUCH
It is no small act of hypocrisy that I posted about B's gettin it together on the health department whilst gnawing away at Doritos in my pajamas. So, when you're 5'2", you can't really carry extra weight without it being noticeable. And I haven't even started fertility treatments yet! There's no doubt I have anxiety about the weight those
lovely Clomid pills will bring with them, not to mention the other treatments I may (likely) need. So, what's keeping me from getting it together?
ME LOVE FOOD. ME LOVE COUCH
So every few years I get in shape. I mean IN SHAPE. Like, I could rip you to shreds with my giant guns whilst sprinting up a mountain in the rain, kind of hard-core bitch in shape. That's me, every few years. And there's no rhyme or reason to how the switch flips and I become that treader-worshipping badass. It just...happens. So, why doesn't it happen now? I keep trying different things. I keep trying the same old shit. And yet, ME LOVE FOOD. ME LOVE COUCH.
I haven't been in shape since our wedding (of course), when I broke my foot at our reception and couldn't go to the gym for 2 months. True Story. Those wedding dresses should come with a warning: Do Not Execute Fancy Triple Axel Dance Move.
Anyhoo, when I'm carrying extra weight, I feel bad about myself. I don't want to get naked in front of B. And this is quite problematic in the baby-making department. It's hard to make a baby with your sweatpants on. Still, I'm hoping I will make the change and actually stick with it. But, sweet baby Jesus, it's gonna take a miracle. Have I mentioned I freakin love both food and my couch?