Something happened a few years ago when I turned 35. My metabolism, which had always been a trusted and faithful friend, quit on me. Well, it didn't quit. It just got very, very, very lazy.
It felt like it happened overnight. I woke up one morning and got dressed. And there it was, plain as day in all of its bulging glory - a muffin top. I'm not complaining too much. I know my cup runneth over with many blessings. But apparently my mid-section runneth over as well.
I partially blame the lower-rise jeans we all wear to avoid the dreaded "mom jeans". But honestly, it's because I am not 20 anymore. I can no longer eat whatever I please without exercising. Those days are over. Hello, Reality. Nice to meet you.
After spending some time mourning the loss of my waistline, I finally did take action. I already cooked pretty healthy dinners for my family. I needed to do better when they weren't around. I started eating breakfast and choosing healthier snacks. I began exercising, which I don't love (wish I could say I do). Turns out when I treat my body better, my aforementioned faithful friend comes out of hiding and gets to work. So this is the way it's got to be.
The holidays are drawing near with all of the family gatherings and culinary goodness. See, where I am from, everything we eat over the holidays has heavy cream, cream-of-something soup, butter, cheese, or all of the above. Of course I will partake in our delicious traditions and I don't want to talk about "skinny stuffing" or "guilt-free mashed potatoes". I just need to remember not to eat like I am going to prison on December 26th. Easier said than done. Maybe I'll just wear sweats from now until February. Denial is such a healthy, underrated emotion.
But really. I have been to the muffin top. I don't want to go back. Moderation is everything. I will enjoy and then get my butt on the treadmill. I'm not 20 anymore. And that's just fine with me.
No comments:
Post a Comment