I've written before about growing up in a house void of vegetables and the challenges I had with weight. Making healthy food choices is something I still struggle with. The roots are deep on that one. Last year, I was tracking the food I ate with My Fitness Pal and it was a huge help. The problem is that not only did I stop tracking but I also stopped caring so much. An extra dessert here and there? Sure, why not! An extra glass of wine? Yes, please! And now here I am wearing the extra pounds from dessert and wine like a horrible badge of honor.
I am a strong believer that people can be happy and (generally) healthy at any weight. It's not about what the scale says but rather how you feel. The problem is that I'm not feeling great right now. I just wish I had a magic wand for my thighs through my waist.
I think I may have reached the point that I need to suck it up and start a real exercise regime. The problem? I hate exercising. I just don't have that gene in me that some people have that makes them love it. I think I got double the bacon gene instead. I envy people who run races. It's just never been me. If you see me running, it's most likely because I'm chasing a toddler who's heading for oncoming traffic. But I'm beginning to think that I just need to suck it up and start exercising. Sigh.
|I'm using this candid picture from BabbaCo as the registration form for my new zip code|