This post was originally penned on 25 February 2010, almost 1 year ago, back when I was questioning whether or not I wanted to re-enter the foray of blogs. And so it sat in an empty draft folder...and soooo much has changed since then. Rather then fill you in now, I'll just let this one go out into the nether regions and eventually type a little catch up. For now though, here's the beginning of The Mom Bod blog:
Eight miles on a treadmill?! That's right, 8 miles, bee-otches! This, coming from someone who has A) never been a runner and 2) feebly started 'jogging/shuffling/gasping' last June. After smoking some really great grass (sarcasm, people) I've opted to embrace turning the big 4-0 by running the Chicago Marathon this October. So in order to do that, I'm in training.
You may have interred by this blog's name that I am a mom and that I have a bod. Not a bodacious bod, mind you, but a "Mom Bod." You know the bod I'm talking about, right? It's the dimply, pear-shape some of us mother's morph into following the birth of children and the early years of rearing them. The kind of bod that looks really bad in pleated khakis. The kind of bod that stays covered, usually in oversized t-shirts that hang over the butt. The kind of bod I've always feared having, but secretly knew resided within me. Recall the scene in "The Breakfast Club" in which Judd Nelson's character rants at the Molly Ringwold character that she's just waiting to get fat... Hello, I'm that Molly Ringwold character...
Over the past 12.5 years of marriage, suffice it to say, my husband and I have "softened" a bit. He's always been more active than me so his softening has been quite meager compared to mine, but marriage, for some reason, can have that effect on couples. But having been together for this long and adding a couple kids to our family, I'd reached the point where I no longer avoided looking at pictures of myself because Fatty McFatty wasn't so foreign to me anymore. I'd accepted my size 14-16 body and that was that. I'd held out hope of changing it, returning to my pre-marriage sveltness, with different diet aides, forearrays into fitness classes and such, but to be honest, that was such WORK! And let's not forget the sacrifice, Ugh! My two greatest foes are my love for the couch and shitty food. Mmm. Mmm. Good.
WTF? Good?!!! My bod is clinically categorized as 'obese' as I stand at a height of 5'3" with a girth of 174 fun-lovin pounds. And you know what pisses me off? Since starting to walk last May and then jog by June (run by July), I haven't lost one damn POUND!! Do you have any idea of how many expletives I'd like to punch into this post? I find I have to slip into an old Orbit gum commercial to relieve my angst: "Who you callin' a Cootie Queen you, LINT LICKER?!!!"
But last May, in preparing for a family trip to Florida, I went swimsuit shopping and felt so ugly and huge and lonely and sad, that when I got home, I simply put on a pair of tennies and went walking. I had no plan, no intention, I just didn't want to "feel" so lazy and lathargic. If you had told me that 9 months later I'd be training for a May 1 half marathon and an Oct. 10 full marathon, I would have punched you in the head for making such mockery of me because surely there was no way in HELL that I would ever be a runner.
And yet here I am. I waited until August before I went to a running store and shelled out the bucks for a good pair of shoes because I know myself, I am a flake! And I flake out on sorts of things and people, but I figured if I was still running by September, chances are, I'd keep going for a while. And I have. In fact, I've logged over 200 miles in the new shoes!
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