The Epic Struggle

Ah baby weight. The bane of every mother's existence. Well, most mothers. Apparently my friend Payge is actually 8 pounds (at last count) under her pre-baby weight and it took her about the blink of an eye to do it. We'll talk about her behind her back another time. Those last five... no eight... no five... pounds just will not come off. Now, let's be honest here. I have no one to blame but myself. I like Coca Cola and Nutty Bars and home-made desserts and pizza and baked ziti and nachos and ...well, you get my point. Conversely, I don't like (and this is an understatement) broccoli and exercise. That which is good for me I hate and that which I need to turn my back on I love. I used to be somewhat quietly judgmental of obese people that I saw in public and now I just think "There but for the grace of God go I."

My dilemma is that I want to want to lose weight for the right reason. I want to want to lose weight so I can be healthy and live a good long life of purpose and have tons of energy to keep up with my kids and my husband and so on and so forth. The truth, however, is that I want to lose about 30 pounds so I can look smokin' hot in a pair of jeans. I want to watch my husband's tongue fall out when I walk in the room. I want us to go out and have other men think what a lucky bastard he is that he's with me. I want to wear clothes and have them fit right like they did in college. I want to lose weight so that I can like what I see when I look in the mirror. Unfortunately, right now I like what I see when I look in the fridge.