To Lose Or To Own Those Belly Bulges?
I’ve never owned bragging rights to a flat tummy. Even during my youth I was on the flabby side. When I’m not downright chubby, I still battled with extra heft in my stomach and upper arms. Any indulgence was always quick to show itself in these areas. I wasn’t particularly sporty or even active. I was actually a couch potato, but I had sufficient discipline and vanity to exercise — enough, anyway, to stop me from being overweight.
You wouldn’t think it to look at me, but I was actually underweight. I wonder if doing crunches like a maniac would have made a difference, but I’ve never been inclined to suffer for my looks, so we’ll likely never find out. I wasn’t too worried. Despite my fondness for fatty and sugary foods, I’d never actually ballooned.
When I got married and started living with a carb-loving carnivorous man, I found it harder to maintain my weight. Now, not only was I flabby, I was also getting heavy. I got fed up sporting a non-discreet spare tire (the one I had worn before had been pretty discreet) and bought an elliptical machine. Two weeks later, I missed my period. I was pregnant and then I had a baby and, man, I was neck-deep in good, valid excuses for not being fit. The exercise machine went into storage and stayed there for the decade we’ve had it. It ventured out when my first-born was a toddler, but she kept on clinging to my leg every time I tried to use it. And then she dropped a coin in the wheel part. The clickety sound it made just about drove me nuts, so I put it away again.
With every kid, there’d be a period of complete submission to frumpiness. I was just too tired and I didn’t really have the time. I’m sorry I can’t be more original in my excuses, but they happen to be true. Really. Around the third year, I’d start having the energy to care about my looks again. I’d start exercising, wearing makeup and accessories, and putting more thought into my outfits. And then I’d get pregnant again and the makeover campaign would get derailed. Again.
I have a new baby right now, so I’m at the frumpy stage. I’m haggard, stressed, and overwhelmed by all the things I need to get done. Who cares about looking good? I’m happy with any opportunity for a non-rushed shower. In a year or two, things will let up, and I’ll start caring again. I’m definitely treating myself to a slimming program at Body Smart. I freakin’ deserve it. In the meantime, I’ll find a way to rock these huge love handles.