Somebody Stop Me..

by Lisa Donovan

I have grown accustomed to the fact that, since having children, my body has somewhat become it’s own creature.. Changing and evolving (if you can call it that) into something that I have little control over.  I have grown used to the feathery stretch marks on my belly and have become thankful that they aren’t as bad as some of my friends.  I have dealt with the fact that I have nursed two children and, well, the ladies are a bit tired these days.  There isn’t a lot of “perk” to my jiggle and jerk, if you know what I mean.  I’ve eased into all of these things and thought that I was doing pretty good.

Somehow, as I crouch toward thirty, some scary things are happening to me.  Widening type things.  Things that have nothing to do with producing children.  My body is spreading.  All over the place.  Of course, I’m the only one to notice.  So far.  I can admit that most of it is in my mind - but some of it is not.  And that’s more than I can handle. 

Here’s the thing.  I’m not an jazzercizer.. I don’t really “do” exercise.  In fact, I hate pointless exercise and think that people who go to gyms are weird.  Can’t explain it - I just get annoyed with exercise.  I know this about myself.  No big deal.  I am still very physically active, nonetheless.  I live a very energetic life.  Really.  I do.  Exercise isn’t my problem.  I know what my problem is and I can’t (don’t want to) fix it.

It’s food.  I love it.  I mean, I love it like most people love sex or drinking or - name your addiction.  Seriously.  If you want me to be somewhere, just dangle a carrot in front of me - if food will be there, so will I.  And, here I am, two days into the flu and it’s in front of me and even though I feel like dog shit, I want to eat it.  I love it.  Love. It.

My adoration of food has never been a problem.  Until tonight.  I caught a glimpse of my spreaded out ass today in the mirror.  Sure I was wearing my “sick” pants (a very old and very saggy pair of sweat pants that are far from flattering) but, still.  It looked gross.  And, I know that my love of eating is the cause.  Don’t get me wrong.  I don’t have an actual addiction.  I just love food.  I love cooking it, smelling, picking it out at the farmer’s market, reading about it, planning meals..  

So, what’s a girl to do?  The Dr. Weil trial is going well but, since I have been sick all week, it is hard to be following a health regimen.  All I have felt like doing is sleeping (and eating, somehow).  Perhaps if I keep following it, I will develop a better sense of balancing foods I adore with foods I should eat to age “gracefully” and without the mom butt creeping up on me as fast as it is. 

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This entry was posted on Wednesday, November 15th, 2006 at 11:12 pm and is filed under Healthy Eating, Healthy Living. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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