heavy

I have delayed any blog posts because of an uncertainty about what to write about when what is happening in the world is so much more important and devastating. My heart is heavy for the residents of Japan, and their loved ones in other parts of the world who have to deal with the not-knowing. I came across this incredible footage through a facebook post and found myself holding my breath as I was watching it.

And then I promptly headed in to the living room where my sons were dazedly watching an episode of Star Wars: The Clone Wars, and gave them way-too-tight bear hugs, thankful we don't have to think about how to rebuild a roof over our head, where we will get our next meal, or (holy sh*t) whether I can hang on to them tight enough or if a wave will take them away from me.

Huge breath.

On the other hand, this personal space is not about world news. It's a selfish endeavor. I created this blog to write about topics that are personal to me, our family, our home and the city we live in. Despite the world events, there has been one thought weighing heavily on my mind for the last several months. Sometimes I push it back when there are more pressing and important things to think about, but it always resurfaces. And then I start to feel heavy. Emotionally and physically.

I am referring to my body.

Over the last few years (after my first pregnancy, more or less) I have slowly but steadily put on some weight and have done little to nothing about it. To tell the entire story of my weight gain would be to make excuses. And there are plenty, believe me. But the bottom line is that I really enjoy eating food. I always have. And all kinds. I'm not picky. In fact, I am the least picky eater you will ever meet.

As a teenager this was never a problem. My metabolism was so incredibly fast, it was impossible to put on any weight. No matter how hard I tried. Nicknames circulated. Ostrich legs, momma long legs, beanpole and, my personal fave, Olive Oyl. Here's what I'm talking about.

That's me on the right, and not even at my skinniest. Check out those matchsticks! See I was on the tennis team and was exercising nearly daily. I think I'm around 125 in this picture. Too thin on my 5'9 frame in my opinion.

A few years later in college, I started really paying attention to my clothes and overall appearance and I think I looked pretty good. (Sassy!)

(Circa 1996, I think.)

(On our Belgian vacation in 2003)

And I stayed around this size (anywhere from 130 - 135) right up until 6 years ago, when I was pregnant with my oldest son. And then slowly, steadily, I added on until where I'm at now. Around 160.

This photo was taken last summer when I weighed in around 150. Imagine 10 more pounds on my belly, ass and thighs.

I think I have 2 main issues at work. 1) I don't exercise. (Ta Daa!) At all. Mostly due to time constraints. But, at this point, 10 minutes on the jump rope would be an improvement on the status quo. 2) I still eat like I did 20 years ago. I need to adjust my eating habits. And, not only that, continue to remind myself that I don't need to eat everything on my plate. Portion control woman!

This week is spring break for my sons. And, though I will still have to work, it is a really good opportunity to figure out some lifestyle changes. Just for me.

I keep making excuses. I really truly don't have time to exercise. And when I do, that time is dedicated to more pressing tasks. Cleaning, grocery shopping, sleeping for goodness sakes. But something has to give.

And lately it's been my waistline.

So, by putting this out there. By documenting my personal struggle, I am hoping that when the time comes to take my youngest son to his parent-tot swim lessons in June, I will be confident in my skin. And maybe I'll feel amazing in a swimsuit. It's been more than six years after all. About damn time.

Now, excuse me while I go watch updates on the death toll on the other side of the world. Followed by taking my sons out for some much-needed quality time together. Thank you for listening.