I have been 27 for 12 days now...and those 3 little dots say more than I ever could in this blog.
I know I should be grateful for every day that I am still alive, grateful for my health etc etc etc...I know all of this and I really am, but as an almost 30 year old I feel like I have the right to not like being 27. And I don't. So suck it.
Today I read this blog post today, by Mama Laughlin, and was blown away. It's me. She wrote about me.
I have to come to grips with my body and it's current state. Some of it caused by pregnancy. Most of it caused by my own laziness and great talent for making up excuses. I eat like shit, am lazy so you already know by the previous two statements that I definitely have not seen a gym or any physical activity for a long time. Nobody wants to read the ol' "Poor me, I'm fat" sob story bullshit, because let's be honest, it's all the same, so I am not going to do that. I am just calling out the facts. If I see them in writing, they are real.
I was never the best at anything, but I was good. I was never the
hottest, but I was cute. I was never the smartest, but I was average. I
went to an average high school, got average grades, went to an average
college where I maintained average grades. I married an anything but
average husband, and bought an average house in an average city. I was
accustomed to average, and became okay with it. My body was average, and my tumultuous love affair with being average has finally caught up with me.
It's not the clothes anymore, it's not an awkward mirror, it's not a bad
week of having an appetite like a teenage boy. It's me. My weight, my
body, my problem.
I haven't had my WHY moment like Mama Laughlin, but I think I am ready to get there. I am not going to make myself promises of how or when, but I will promise that this time I will do it. If it kills me. If I have to change everything, I will do it.
In the back of my mind, there is a little voice saying "Danielle, here you go again. Another diet, and another fitness kick. This will last three weeks," (Three weeks is how long it typically takes me to be over something) to say, "Aghfuckit, drinking, eating and being lazy is not only easier, it's way more fun than eating bland chicken breasts and salads for the next 6 months." That's fine. Talk all the shit you want to little voice, because if there is one thing I AM great (not good, but great!) at it's talking back. I have a smart-ass, sarcastic, sometimes asshole mouth that gets me into a lot of trouble. So believe me when I say, I know how to talk some serious shit too.
I have no idea how I am going to do this. But I am. I want me back.
