Exercise....is a dirty word.
No, I take that back.
Exercise....is hard. And unfortunately for me and my gut, I have a short attention span. That means that while I may have the best intentions in February, and decide to kick my thighs' butt (if they had a butt...I'm being metaphoric here, people), by May I am OVER IT. Like, stick a fork in me I'm done. Now pass me the Fritos.
Ah ha -- but NOW we come to June. And through some random miracle of God, I am actually going to the beach this year. That means that OTHER PEOPLE ARE GOING TO SEE MY STUFF. Well. That kind of puts the whole exercise-thing in perspective, huh? But you see, now it's kinda too late. Even if I were to go on some crazy juicy-juicer-no-white-veggies-all-turkey diet, I still wouldn't look like a Brazilian model. I'm short, for one thing. But I digress.
I have been doing little things...like taking the stairs, for instance. You see, I really don't eat that badly. I don't have a sweet tooth, so it's really easy for me to stay away from that. I'm not really into chips (mmmm, but Fritos are quite tasty, on occasion), so that's not a big deal for me either. But I work in a cubicle all day, and get very little walk-up-and-down time. So when I'm going to a meeting on a different floor, I make it a point to take the stairs whenever possible. Coming back from a meeting on the 2nd floor today, I said EFF IT I'm taking the stairs to the 5th floor.
First flight, I'm feeling good. 'Wow, Stacy - you are really showing these stairs who's boss! Get it, girl!'.
Second flight, I'm getting winded. 'OK, yeah -- still proud of you, keep it up! Just stop breathing so hard so the guy next to you doesn't think you're coming on to him, m'kay?'
Third flight, I'm going to die. 'OH MY GOD!! WHY DID I THINK THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA? Knees to chest, bitch! Knees to chest!'
Moral of the story -- exercise KILLS.
Haha, no, it really doesn't. But it does hurt.
So now, in the words of my good friend Katie, I've determined that 'It is what it is'.
This is ME, and I've got to be okay with it. That doesn't mean that I need to give up and stop taking the stairs, it just means that I am not a stick figure, and will probably never be one. Yes, I'm probably going to feel uncomfortable in my bathing suit, just because I don't look like what I want to look like in my head. But who does?
I had a conversation with a lady I work with last week who is absolutely stunning -- she is 40+, has a teenage daughter, and has the most beautiful figure EVER. This woman....a sweet, cultured, incredibly bright person....proceeded to tell me she was ashamed of her 'gut'. My first reaction was to slap her into next week. My second reaction was to pull her hair. I ignored both of those urges, and instead told her, "You have no idea how beautiful you are, and that's a real shame."
Look at the blue chart to the left, people.
LEARN IT. LIVE IT. LOVE IT.
I love you all, in all your kaleidescope shapery.