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Getting My Groove Back

Is really hard. It has been a bigger challenge than I expected. Making excuses has been much easier. However, I reached a point in my life where I am tired of excuses and I don't really like what I see in the mirror.
There's this thing I've seen on the Internet a lot. It says "I wish I was as thin as I was when I thought I was fat." That. Is. So. True.
I have a love/hate relationship with my weight. I think most females do. I am not a small person. I never have been. Even when I weighed nothing I was not a small person. I have no ambition to be a waif. I want to be healthy. I want to be strong. I want to be a good example for my children. Growing up my family called me lovely names like "Bertha Big Butt" and "Thunder Thighs." Over the years the blatant nicknames went away and the more subtle comments about my weight took over. Either way they still hurt. I am making a conscious effort to not say negative things about my body in front of Olivia. If and when I hear her (or someone else) say negative things about herself I correct her/them and put a positive spin to whatever has been said.
Prior to getting pregnant with Olivia I was in good shape. There was always those 10 pounds I wanted to lose, but overall I was happy with myself. I was a gym rat. Every morning before work I was at the gym sweating out. It felt fantastic. During my pregnancy with her I gained 80 pounds (I only lost 40 of that) and swelled more than I thought was humanly possible. There were complications with her delivery. I got depressed. Then I had some more health problems afterwards. Then, as I think is pretty common I put myself on the back burner. I didn't feel like I had time to go to the gym. I didn't think it was important to watch what I ate. I didn't gain weight, but I didn't lose. Then twin pregnancy happened. I was healthier with that pregnancy. I only gained 40 pounds. I lost those 40 pounds immediately. But, again I put myself on the back burner. The first few months I was overwhelmed and anything other than survival was not considered. Then the haze lifted and I felt guilty for wanting to take time for myself. Slowly I am learning that I am a better person when I do take some time for myself. Mr. Mayer and I joined a gym last year. I was going consistently for a long time. Then I hurt my foot. The doctor said no exercise. I had to take it easy on my foot. It took my foot a lot longer to heal than I expected. I was frustrated. Now my foot is better. I tried going to the gym mid morning or evenings. However, as anyone with kids knows that is H-A-R-D! Kids have doctor's appointments, play dates, groceries have to be bought, I have court, kids get sick, etc. etc. So inconsistent at best was  my mantra. I averaged maybe once a week. I was not satisfied with that. I felt like I was just spinning my wheels. A few weeks ago. My "sister" Allison took a picture. I was horrified when I saw myself.

I made a resolution. I was going to get up in the mornings and go to the gym at least 3 times a week. I would like to do more, but baby steps. Last week I made 4 days in a row! This week I haven't done as great, but I have still gone a few times.
If I could get my diet and eating under control I would be doing great. I am an emotional person. I eat my emotions. You can understand how that would be a bad thing. I get stressed I eat. I get upset about something I eat. I want to celebrate I eat. There is a big source of my problem. I am getting the exercise aspect of things down, but eating is still a demon.
I'm going to keep working on it. I am feeling better than I have in a very long time. I am feeling more like myself than I have in a long time. I still don't like what I see in the mirror, but I am making progress with that.

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