If you haven’t picked up on my euphoric attitude as of late, consider yourself lucky. I’ve been over-posting on Instagram and Twitter for several days in a row now about my hiking trips, my outings to the park with the kids, and the wonderful weather that seems to have settled here in Four Seasons. I’ve written posts here (and here), too, about my love of the change in temperature and taken pseudo-deep looks into my psyche to explain why I’m so enamored by the consistent (controlled) fluctuation of the seasons. It’s sickening, and I’m a little embarrassed. But rest easy because my happiness has come to something of a screeching halt.
With the warming of the weather, the time has come to start pulling out all my summer clothes and pack away my sweaters and pants (thank Zeus), and in doing so, I’ve been hit with a sad realization. I no longer fit into my shorts—as in, wearing them cuts off all circulation to my lower body. I could cry. I might cry. Okay, I did cry, just a little.
I guess all that holiday weight has been accumulating around my waist and stomach. I don’t know why it isn’t gone by now, though. I mean, I’ve been avoiding the gym at all costs, eating fattening meals consistently throughout the day, and scarfing down gallons of hand crafted ice cream (I blame my sister) late at night. So what’s the deal?
Seriously, I guess I do need to get my act together.
When I left my job in the fast food industry back in September, I made a pact with myself to eat healthier and work out at least five times a week. I was doing pretty good until Thanksgiving rolled around, and then before I knew it, Christmas and all its let’s-shove-seven-meals-into-one-day family celebrations were upon us, and then I started my MFA program (which leaves me with very little time for the gym), and then it was my two-year-old’s birthday, and then the supermarket was having this really good sale on dill pickle potato chips, which inspired the making of my own homemade potato chips, and then we bought season passes to Dollywood where the food is always fried, and now I’ve gained twenty pounds and I can’t fit into any of my summer clothes and I want to kill myself.
There, I’m done with the melodrama.
So today, it stops. Today, I will eat healthy (which is pretty easy to say since I just finished my bag of dill pickle chips), and today, I will stop being such a cow. I figure if I put it in writing here, I can’t turn back on my commitment. That makes sense, right?
Photo courtesy of graciehagen.