Archive for April, 2012

Published by PaintingChef on 27 Apr 2012

I do love them… even the wonky baby toes…

It is becoming increasingly clear to me that this whole weight loss thing has gone about as far as it is going to go without me putting in a ton of effort. I have to be honest… up until this point, I’ve kind of coasted. And while the shrinking of my fat, cottage cheese ass has led to me being naturally more active, I haven’t made any huge strides in the exercise department.

As much as it pains me to say, I think the time has come for that to change…

Here’s the problem. Despite my very active past, I have exercise. I loathe it. I despise sweating and if you don’t mind, I would very much like to just sit here on the couch with my puppies and indulge in this all day Veronica Mars marathon, thank you very much. It’s not like I’m hooked to a cake IV the whole time (is that a thing? A cake IV?) but I’m probably not running in place either. Does getting up to pee count? Shifting position on the couch? Yeah… I didn’t think so.

As mentioned, I do have a very active history. I have been a dancer, runner, swimmer, ice skater and aerobics instructor. I worked at a gym all through high school and the majority of college and, in general, I kept shit under control. But not because I enjoyed it. (The exercise part, I mean… we’ll get to the rest in a minute.) I did it because I liked how it made my ass look in those jeans. That’s pretty much it.

With the exception of the dancing and ice skating. I loved those. I would immerse myself in the movement and the music and the way they kind of flowed together and took control of my body. And laugh if you will but I LIKE the way my permanently jacked up feet feel no pain and allow me to wear those ridiculous shoes.

Which leads us to this…

And these…

And I can’t lie… I’m a perfect cocktail of fear, excitement and anticipation… I kind of feel like another lost part of me is finding its way home again.

Published by PaintingChef on 12 Apr 2012

There are sixteen question marks in this post…that should probably tell me something…

Somewhere in the back of my head, deep down in my subcockles, it’s starting to wake up. That little voice… the one that says maybe it’s time to start thinking about it again. Not yet up to a pounding, incessant “BABY BABY BABY” roar but a little tingle.. an inkling. Just something out there that says, yeah… maybe… let’s shyly approach each other and avoid eye contact.

Let’s fourth grade it, if you will…

I’m unwilling to commit. Is that a problem? I’m not 100% sold and I feel like a hypocrite because there was a time that I was. And then when nothing (nothing, nothing, nothing… always with the nothing) happened I figured, okay… this is maybe good? For a reason? Yet I cry all the time so what the hell? How can I have been so certain I wanted something and been willing to dive headfirst into doing whatever it took to achieve that and then just… walk away?

I’m not religious. At all. Which you all know all too well… In fact, that’s a whole new fun issue that has cropped up between me and the in-laws because of a (STUPID) morning buzz wherein I deviated from my M.O. of smile and nod. I should have known better. (shaking that whole mess off… moving on)

But while not religious, I do have a strong belief in a… plan? (Is that the word? I search for words so much more than I used to lately. It almost feels like an old friend betraying me, I can’t explain it… probably because I can’t find the words.) But I think it’s more of a plan in the fuzzy, obtuse sort of way if that makes sense. I’ve not been ready. I thought I was ready, I was certain. But they didn’t happen and maybe that was on purpose? And had things gone differently, we would have managed and done wonderfully, I have no doubt.

And yet doubt is all I have now. I’ve thought I was in the right place before. Many times. So now all I know is doubt. Uncertainty. Fear. Plain and simple. I’m scared shitless. I can’t go through it again. In any fashion. So is the safest and smartest thing to not even try? Fear and doubt. Doubt that it will work. Fear that it will. Neither is good… there used to be hope.

I stopped because I wanted to be ME again. And while that’s gone great, and I’m so much happier and healthier and just… better. Closer to me (but not there yet). I don’t think I ever anticipated losing that need that defined me. But it’s changed somehow, softened? I hesitate to call it ambivalence. Are you even ALLOWED to be ambivalent about children? Fertility treatments? Adoption?

I love my life now. I’m not searching for something to round it out. I don’t feel like anything is missing. So… do I really WANT to change that? Yeah… probably… I think I do. But what if I don’t? What if I’m not sure. What is what I think is happiness is just those twin whores fear and doubt?

Ugh. I have no idea.