Only Partly Uncensored

Shaping Up

In Chick Shit, Identity, Mouthy Broad on June 9, 2011 at 9:24 am

Hi. I’m Jolie, and I’m a 32 year old smoker with a tiny muffin-top forming around my middle.

Yuck.

I think it’s time for some changes to my personal care regimen. I’m tired of waking up with a scratchy throat. I’m tired of not having enough energy. I’m sick to death of feeling my age, and I am so not okay with going up a whole dress size this last year.

Say what you want about married weight, about a size 8/10 (depending on designer) being just fine for a 32 year old woman with a child, about loving myself as I am.

I’m a former dancer who survived an eating disorder and didn’t lose the high expectations. The touchy-feely shit isn’t going to work on me.

Plus there’s the whole we want to have a baby thing. I’m 32. I have no illusions about how much longer it’s going to take my body to snap back this time. I was 23 when Sharkman was born. The old gray mare just ain’t what she used to be, y’all. I need a lot more advance work this time around to make sure that baby and I come through healthy and happy and sane (that last being me more than an infant, I’m sure).

On top of all of that, I have an eight year old budding jock who wants a running buddy. Sharkman has this amazing natural athletic ability, with surreal hand-eye coordination, but he’s the pokey little puppy when it comes to moving his feet. He’s not happy with being slow, so he spent the last 3/4 of baseball season getting my ass out of bed at 6:10 every morning to run sprints.

It wasn’t enough for him for Momma to sit with the stopwatch and shout encouragement. Oh, no. Momma had to run the warmup and cooldown laps with him.

Ouch. That’s all I’ve got.

Sharkman + potential baby #2 + age + smoking + overall unhappiness with maritally-induced pudge = time for a change.

Now, I know myself well enough to know several things about how to make this work. I know that I am a morning person. This means that if I try to work out or run at the end of the day, I just won’t. I’ll procrastinate. I’ll give myself a reason to start tomorrow – any tomorrow, just not today. I’ll be sapped from work, or there will be a ball game on that I want to watch or… or… or…

Yeah. I need to work out in the morning. But I also know that if I don’t get enough sleep (like I haven’t been doing for weeks now), I won’t get up and do it, either.

Then there’s the whole blood sugar thing. If I work out or run in the morning, then I have to come home and eat a real breakfast. My hypoglycemia is getting worse as I get older. I can’t trick my body into ignoring my sugar levels anymore. To make this work, I have to budget time after the workout for a shower and food preparation.

Ugh.

It all sounds like a giant pain in the ass. Part of the point of this post, I guess, is to wrap my head around all the ways I can sabotage myself so that I can try to avoid them.

In the plus column is the idea that I know my metabolism well enough to know that it won’t take long for me to start seeing concrete results from my efforts. I eat pretty healthy by default – I’m not a huge sugar and junk food person. Just the addition of the exercise will start getting rid of the weight I’ve added on by being happily married and therefore much more sedentary. (I’d rather sit around and make googly-faces at Rhett than get up and move.) Working out in the mornings won’t interfere with my staring schedule – Rhett is most decidedly not a morning person.

Plus, working out will help me cut back on and eventually cut out completely this nasty smoking habit. I know I’ll get exasperated because I’ll be short of breath, which will lead to me reducing the amount I smoke, which will roll forward on itself…

If I can just get started and then keep going.

That’s where I’m at right now – just trying to get started.

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  1. Dear Bratty Sister,

    Stop talking about it already and just fucking do it. I workout every damn day, if it’s not at the gym then it’s at home. As you know, once you get into a routine you won’t even have to think about it.

    Smoking = nasty, and who likes kissing a fucking ashtray?

    Now fucking get to it!

    Love,
    Your brother aka The Drill Sergeant

    • Dear Drill Sergeant –

      I skipped recruitment day at the high school for a reason. 😛 But yeah, you have a point. Not that I’ll ever admit it.

      Love,
      BLS

  2. You can do it, dollface! I have every confidence in your stubborn butt. 😉

  3. I’ll follow you and use you as my inspiration to do the same. I’ve lost twenty pounds since Jan, but I’m stuck. So, you do it, and I’ll follow in your wake.

    No pressure. 🙂

    • Yeesh! Gee… um… thanks? *lolol* No, for seriously-ness, I’m starting the running tomorrow morning. The quitting smoking will follow suit. I think. 😉 You follow me, I’ll follow you, and maybe we’ll keep each other accountable!

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