Working out SUCKS, but being chubby really BLOWS.

For almost two weeks now, I've been getting up at 5:30 am to put in my workout before Maddy wakes up. It sucks because all I really want to do is stay in bed a bit longer. But it must be done, because you know what sucks even WORSE? Finding a top you really like at the store, grabbing what you deemed to be "your size," and upon putting it on, you realize you bear a close resemblance to Jello ......stuffed into a condom. Clothes shopping usually ends for me right there. I then move onto something less proned to give me a heart attack. Book shopping at Barnes and Noble.

I've heard many people "poo poo" on my renewed vigor for working out. "You're not even fat!" Okay, true.. I'm just cornering on the chubby side. However, if I went by what people told me, I would never be "fat." I know how friends and family are.. they'll tell you you're not fat when you're wheeling yourself into the grocery store in one of those motorized scooters and your ankles start to resemble a side of ham. "Oh, you're not fat, you're just big boned."
Riiight. Big boned. Sure. With a whole lotta meat wrapped around it.
That's like saying a fart is just "air." Yeah, packed up against shit!
(Okay, so the two sayings have NOTHING to do with each other, but I just wanted to type that out.. hee. "packed up against shit" hoo boy.. that was rich! What? I'm funny. Shut up.)
Anywhoo.. back to the subject at hand.
I know it's up to me to give some tough love to myself when putting on clothes turns into a game of, "which outfit won't make me look like a potato??" ( Cue Jeopardy music ).

Plus, I'm short. Super short. So short that in Ohio or Utah or someplace, I would be considered a handicapped person (under 5'0"). I would be deemed worthy enough to park my car right up on Target's front door, depending if I could reach the pedals of my car to even make it there.
So let's look at that equation, shall we?
Super Short + Fat = OOmpa Loompa
Yeah. No thanks. That equation right there has me waking up in a cold sweat at 5:00 am.

Also, I remember fondly going shopping for clothes and not even trying them on because I KNEW they were going to fit. (although, shopping for clothes and NOT trying them on will never happen again since being pregnant shifted my legos around, some parts are just never going to be the same, even if I get back into shape.. ie: I have hips now!) Point being, I liked the freedom of being in shape. The freedom to just sit the fuck down and not worry if you're belly was sticking out too much, the freedom to get that cute bathing suit because it looks CUTE on YOU and not because it was the only bathing suit that offered enough coverage for your ass AND didn't look like a tent. More importantly, I want the freedom TO EAT. I know it sounds like such an oxymoron; getting in shape so you can eat. But when you're in shape you can AFFORD to eat. When you're an oompa loompa you're pretty much limited to cottage cheese with a side of potting soil. I love food and I want to eat dammit, what's the price for my love of eating? Sweating it all off afterwards of course. That way, I can be a clean slate when that basket of gravy covered, fried chicken strips dares cross my path.

Oh and what about health you say? yeah, that's nice too. But I'm not going to bullshit, I'm not old enough to "worry" too much about my health. Nothing is horribly wrong so I rarely worry about my health. I figure, EVEN if I work out for completely the wrong reasons, health is evidently going to be the bi-product of working out. So why sugar coat it? I'm not working out for health. I'm working out to up my hotness factor. MILF baby. Or as Shannon said, "SAHMILF baby!"

Finally, my main motivation lies in the fact that I'm going to be THIRTY this year.
(Hold on...gonna have to let THAT sink in..................phew......thirty.. wow............)
Anyways..if I don't step it up now, its just going to get harder and harder the longer I wait. Plus, how "milf-e" will I be if I wait and got in shape at 65? I'd be a GILF! Ew. There's a reason that GILF's don't exist.
Because... just, EWWW.
I promised myself no crash diets anymore either. I did that last year before going to Cabo and as satisfying as it was to see fifteen pounds shed off in two weeks, (although I was STARVING and was two seconds away from holding up a Krispy Kreme..."Gimme all your jelly donuts! make it snappy.. and throw in a few of those custard filled ones if you know what's good for ya!) it wasn't so satisfying when it popped its ugly 15 pound head on my stomach and ass about two days after I got back. AND it brought its friends a few days later, Mr. 2 pounds and Mr. 5 pounds.

I DO remain firm on my stance that working out sucks. I don't see how I could ever "love to workout" like some people do, because "I love to sleep and eat" a whole lot more. But I keep fighting the good fight because the "Working Out" card trumps the "Oompa Loompa" card everytime!