My job as a nurse requires me to educate my patients on their health. I tell people how to keep their cholesterol in check, their blood sugars level and their BMI at a respectable number.
Pause while I take another bite of full-fat ice cream. With peanut butter cups in it. And high fructose corn syrup.
Mmmm, corn syrup.
Now that Noah is about a year old, I can no longer, with good conscience, use the ol' 'I just had a baby' excuse. After 3 kids, my stomach has settled into a comfortable 4 months pregnant look. Which is adorable when one is actually 4 months pregnant. The cuteness is now considerably diminished.
So I do what any normal American woman would do.
Consider weight-loss surgery. Or liposuction.
And then add up the cost and go back to my ice cream. It's soothing. So it looks like I'll have to do the dreaded diet and exercise way to lose weight. Darn common sense. I like to run but can't do it very often due to my husband's work schedule. Well, let me clarify. I don't really like to run. Hate is actually the word that comes to mind. But I like the way I feel afterward. Like I did something other than clean dried chocolate off my yoga pants all morning.
A couple days ago I picked up my copy of 30 Day Shred and went at it. It seems to me that workout videos have gotten more extreme titles over the year. Shred, Burn, Insanity, Asylum, etc. I'm already nervous enough without the added pressure of a borderline violent workout. Besides, 30 days? I'm looking at a solid 45, possibly 60.
I would shake my fist at Jillian Michaels but my arms are too sore to lift.
I can barely bring the spoon of ice cream to my mouth. Which, I suppose, is the point.
No comments:
Post a Comment