Gonna get fit again…
I have decided after looking in the mirror several times over that I am getting down right frumpy looking. My love handles are more like love railing now. I swear, the little old ladies who can’t get in and out of the bathtub without assistance could grab onto one of these puppies and could lift themselves out with ease. Sadly, I have no one to blame but myself. After all a pocket full of Jelly Belly’s a night really doesn’t help with ones blood sugar or their pentiant for gaining copious amounts of fat.
This is all my fault. I have no one to blame for this. No one held a gun to my head and said “Eat that Ben and Jerry’s” Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years did not come at a time that was unanticipated nor unannounced. They weren’t just there one day requiring us to eat pounds and pounds of pumpkin pie, turkey, ice cream and cookies at a time when we normally wouldn’t have.
No, my weight gain and frumpiness are from shear laziness.
At this time last year I joined the gym…again. I joined the gym…again because I just knew that my new RE would say “if you would loose X number of pounds it would be so much easier for you to get pregnant” So I dutifully got in my car and drove to the gym every other night, and one weekend morning every week. I took the week of my surgery off, but as soon as I got the all clear I was back in the recumbant bikes saddle. During my injectable cycle I dutifully went even though I was bloated and sore. Once I got pregnant I was told “wait until you make sure everything is OK before you go back” and that was the last time I was there.
Now 9 months later I have gained back all the weight I lost last year, and then some. Only what is worse is I no longer have to drive 20 minutes to the gym. I could simply throw on my shoes and jogging pants and hit the steps that take me from the top of the hill to the bottom. How much easier could it be?
Here I am complaining about my glucose level, and yet I did so while sitting on my couch, television on and wondering…”why can’t things be different?”
I refuse to be the one who will need 8 pallbearers at my funeral. So if I can’t have kids, I am at least going be fit!