Someone asked me what I did yesterday morning. I relayed to them my typical Sunday rituals: Long run followed by feeding my couch some ass and a side of shopping. I also told them that I had wanted to run 14km but didn’t make it that far. Sadly, my body couldn’t handle that despite me wanting to, and I cut it short. 10km is a good distance for a run, but I’m disappointed with myself and what I used to be able to accomplish with ease. Of course they thought I was crazy, and I guess I am.
But then I go and blame the extra 20lbs for giving up early on the run. You know, those 20lbs that I put on and I can’t take off (and I seem so obsessed with in every blog entry this past year). No one to blame but myself, of course. When my head is in the game, I can work them off, but it’s not there yet with the things flying at me from every angle and my inability to plan around them currently.
It’s all good. It will settle down eventually.
But when I say things like this, to people who are only acquaintances still, they think I have some celeb mag fascination with a perfect body.
I don’t know about all of you, but I really don’t. I know that look is unattainable for me. I will never have the flat tummy or a bikini ready body. Yes, I may have had dreams in high school where I’d go away from the summer and return a complete fox, but then I grew up, wised up, and realized that I can only have a healthy body weight and not the abs of those gracing the covers of shape and self or whatever they are (clearly I don’t read them). Honestly, I think that’s way better, too.
So what’s up with people thinking that the airbrushed abs are what I’m striving for? Yes, I get that I can be obsessive about my albatross that is the extra weight and that in the grand scheme of things, I should be thankful that I’ve only gained back that much and not the other 40lbs+ that used to cling to my bones, but the issue is that I’m comparing current self to my skinny self and it makes me entirely disappointed.
I was so focused for so long and I let a string of bad things get me way off track. Now that I’m on an upswing, I still can’t tell my head from my ass and the goal is slipping down the priority list day by day, as are the cookies past my lips.
I honestly just want to be the girl who can run without feeling winded again. The girl who fits in the clothes in her closet. The girl who felt healthy and happy every day. That’s it.
I write a magazine. I don’t need to be on the cover of one.
I just need to get back on that treadmill today and pick up the 4km that I missed yesterday.