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Time to Get My Groove Back

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Admittedly, I have let myself go. Had you known me in high school, you never would’ve guessed this frumpster is me.


I mean, for heaven’s sake, I never weighed 100 pounds until the age of eighteen. I kid you not, my nickname was twiggy. My figure was straight up and down for the longest time.


Yet, here I sit, wide-bottomed as they come, munching on fries, glued to the computer, fingers getting more of a workout than the rest of me.


Yes, I do have my reasons. With my first pregnancy, then subsequent second baby bump, came an insatiable hunger. To ignore hunger like the one I had as a teen would have been detrimental to my babies. Even I knew that.


Then there is the subject of exercise. I used to make myself do the same series of repetitive sit-ups, push-ups, and other moves learned from ninth grade gym class before even leaving on a date. Serious as a heart attack. So what happened? Life happened. I experienced bleeding during pregnancy that caused my gyno to ban my then new bicycle. During postpartum periods, my mom and I would see a late night commercial for a juicy hamburger and just HAD to have it. I swear we invented the fourth meal way back then.


Before my baby was a year, I already had another bun in the oven. This time, I was going into it twenty pounds heavier to start.


Then there’s the stress I was under. During that time, because of painful memories flooding to the surface, very complex relationship with my parents, social displacement, and constant quarrels in the home, I became an emotional eater. Boy that is kind of hard-wired now.


However, I believe, from past experience with weight loss, I can at least conceive of myself returning to a size ten, circa 2006. I don’t want to set it too high. Realistically, the sizes I wore as a teen are not exactly womanly. To me, anyway.


So wish me luck. I have done it before and I WILL do it again. I see the future … It consists of slim-fast, small portions, snacking on salsa and cottage cheese, yogurt, tall glasses of water, milk, and V8, fruits and veggies galore, and nighttime runs through the neighborhood with my two large-breed dogs pulling me on leashes.


Cheers to goal setting and happier swimsuit seasons.

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