Glory, Glory.

Ugh. Weight.

I’ve been gym-ing it for awhile but the scale hasn’t really budged. I guess the official word for that condition is a plateau. After a few weeks without losing anything, I grudgingly started counting calories … and then I quit. Man, that sucks, calorie-counting. I can’t function under that kind of pressure.

So I was feeling pretty discouraged. I know — Pepper is only 3 months old, she is my third baby in under 5 years, blah blah blah. That doesn’t change the fact that nothing fits me. Not my underwear. Not my pajamas. Nothing. Everything is too tight (my normal clothes) or too big in the wrong places (my fat clothes … sort of) and I refuse to go buy new things because then I’ll just get comfortable in them and stop trying to fit into my old stuff. It’s just Ugly Town until who knows when.

After Thursday’s Zumba class I was lugging the baby in her 15-pound carseat, carrying a diaper bag and a workout bag, and dragging Asher by the hand across the parking lot when an older lady who was in my class stopped to speak to me. As I loaded the kids into the van one by one, she said something incredibly nice and encouraging: “I am PROUD of you. For making yourself come to the gym with these little ones, and trying to lose weight the right way. You’re doing great.”

It almost moved me to tears, and then I started making self-deprecating comments because I can’t seem to accept a sincere compliment without putting myself down, and then she cut me off and said “Honey.” So I made myself shut up and say thank you. Because she’s right. I should be proud of myself. It’s hard to make myself exercise. Everything and everyone else gets in the way. I’m tired. I want to lose a lot of weight, and the overall goal can be overwhelming. I don’t have time to plan my meals properly and I end up eating crap most of the time. I have a flap where my lower abdomen used to be. 

I needed someone to validate my efforts and give me encouragement and I didn’t even realize it. I hope one day, when I’m older, I can offer encouragement to a complete stranger who is struggling with her children and her body.

And so, I re-made the decision to just be proud of myself. I’m working towards a goal. I’m always working towards a goal. The most important thing I need to remember is to be proud that I bother to work towards something at all, because I have three small children who are sort of sucking the life of out me. My vanity and selfishness are the only things saving me from a life of sweatpants and Husband’s old t-shirts. 

And THEN do you know what happened?

I put on a pair of jeans that wouldn’t go past my hips last week. And I wore them all afternoon.

 Glory, glory hallelujah! There is hope after all.

3 thoughts on “Glory, Glory.

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