I’m having a fat day today. A few days out from my 32nd birthday and my middle aged spread has found it’s home. All of my weight is being dumped around my already unattractive middle. As if the pre-existing stretch marks, loose skin and csection scar weren’t bad enough, now I have flabby fatness there as well.
I am usually the first person to champion positive body image. I have grown two babies inside of me, and am breastfeeding them as they grow. I’m pushing my body to it’s limits by breastfeeding two kids AND expressing to donate to other mums. I have a hypothyroid, which makes all of that slightly harder and I’m still managing. I rarely get sick and I have plenty of energy to play with my kids. I KNOW my body is amazing, I just wish it looked it too.
My kids provide a perfect excuse for exercise. Today I took them to the park. Did some ‘box jumps’ on the play equipment, worked my bum and thighs on some steps, had a go at swinging on the monkey bars and entertained the kids with some hand stands against a big pole. Mr 4 was very impressed that I could do handstands “Just like Aunty Jeni”. I’m pretty sure that the things I was doing could never be compared to the major feats of strength and flexibility my sister engages in, but I felt a boost to know that my son thought they were similar.
For my grand finale, I chased my son on his bike (he has no training wheels so he’s pretty fast) with my sleeping 2yo in a cheap stroller. Our park has a 1.8km loop around the outside. It was hot and there was no shade or breeze. I ran for a bit, walked a bit, ran some more and then clumsily rolled my ankle on the drink bottle that fell out the back of the stroller. It was painful but I walked it off and then ran a little more.
Mr 4 is a brilliant motivator. He knows I’m not used to running and he knows I can’t run as fast as he can ride. He cheers me on, slows down so I can catch him and then speeds up to encourage me to run a bit more. When I’m buggered, he rides off to give me a short rest, then loops back to tempt me into chasing him again.
The plan was never to exercise, it just happened. There was no thought process where I made a conscious decision that I wanted to get fitter or lose some weight. But sometimes when I’m feeling crappy about life, I want to run away from it. I know that running away generally doesn’t fix anything, but in this case it might. So when I am feeling crappy about weight, I run away from those feelings. Literally. Sitting around feeling sorry for myself has never been my way. I run to a place where I can feel good about myself again. I don’t feel any skinnier just yet, but I DO feel a lot better about myself than I did this morning.