I've finally made the commitment to do something about all the "left-over" baby weight. I've been talking about it for months. Since before Fiona was even born. Up until now I haven't really done anything proactive about it. I've whined and sulked and had another cupcake - but I haven't made any real effort to change how I look. I've never really had to worry about my weight. I've always been one of the fortunate few with a fantastic metabolism and good genetics. My body seems to know what size it is supposed to be and it stays that way. Something changed. I think it was turning 30. But now all this stubborn belly weight is hanging on. My clothes don't fit. My shape is not one I am happy to see in the mirror. I think this is some kind of bad karmic joke. I am finally happy in my own skin. My body was one I was proud of and I was comfortable with how I looked. I had my moments, but for the most part was confident. Apparently the universe feels that I have to earn that contentment.
I joined a gym. Sort of. It is a gym but not in the sense that you normally think. There are no machines. No treadmills and ellipticals, no weight machines that no one really knows how to use anyway. Well, I don't know how to use. They have a program called Cross Fit. I tried it out for the first time today and I have never had such an intense and difficult workout. I worked harder than I thought I could and used nothing more than my own body weight and a couple of bars. No machines or treadmills. I thought I was going to pass out. I was lucky I didn't throw up. And honestly I can't wait to go back! It's more expensive than a regular gym membership but cheaper than working with a personal trainer and works out to less than a latte a day. I just haven't figured out how to convince Doug that this is something we should splurge on. I'm going to go take some ibuprofen and try not to stiffen any more.