Fat Pants

Okay, talking seriously for a moment… I’ve been throwing in a lot of comments on the blog lately about “fat pants” and this bothers me. I’m not the kind of person who moans and groans about weight. Really, I’m not. I’m usually pretty happy with my body and generally confident and comfortable with the way it is designed. I’ll admit, I got a bit wrapped up in monitoring my weight post children… and maybe even some before. But last year I threw out the scales completely (well, they are still there, technically, I just don’t use them) and I’ve been very content just taking the “am I happy and am I comfortable” approach.

And now I find myself complaining about my pants not fitting… which must mean I’ve gained a few, right?

So I thought for a change that I’d try a little honesty about how I’m feeling about my body right now since I’m not feeling real positive about my attempts to mask it with humor. I am NOT happy as far as my body goes at the moment and I am NOT comfortable… and it has nothing to do with how much I am eating and only something to do with how little I am exercising in a very round-about way.

I’m tired of feeling broken.

It’s been eight months since I fell down the stairs and I won’t even share the amount of $$$ I’ve spent on the chiropractor and on that stupid sonogram on my leg just to ease my mind that nothing horrible was actually going on in there, just still healing from the bruise.

I’m pissed about all the money I’ve spent and I’m pissed that I can’t just leap from my bed in the morning and go for a run. I’m pissed that I can’t play hopscotch with my kids because the very act of hopping three times sends spasms across my lower back and by evening my legs are tingly and numb.

Perhaps I’ve never been a good athlete, but I’ve always been a very active person. I’m accustomed to being able to try anything and even if I’m not half- good, I’m at least half-doing it! I’m so tired of not being able to just do whatever looks appealing. I’m tired of not being able to push my body to try things that look like fun and I’m tired of being afraid that every little thing is going to hurt me and set me back.

And I’m annoyed that I have let this whole thing put such a cloud over my life. I’m annoyed that I keep falling into these pits where I have to work so hard to look for the bright spots and that each day seems like a new struggle to get out of bed.

Two years ago I was feeling strong and thinking I was in possibly the best cardio-vascular shape of my life. I was planning biking trips and hiking trips and so completely excited about being possibly as strong as I had ever been in my life. Last week I tried to show the kids a trick with the jump rope and spent the rest of the day thinking, “So this is what it must feel like to be 80.”

So I actually had to pull out my journal, the private one where I tell myself the things that I would never share except MAYBE with my very closest friends. I have to read to remind myself that I am better. Look, I have to say to myself, today you are talking walks all the way across town. In early July you could barely walk from the kitchen to the bedroom. See? You’re getting better! Yet, sitting in hard chairs is still difficult, especially if I do it for any length of time, but last July I couldn’t sit! Period!

I hate being such a whiner.

I started the year with such high hopes. I was ready to put myself back into action. Each week I’d make a plan for getting fit, and each week I’d manage a couple of days before realizing I had overdone it. I’ve had quite the love affair with those back ache patches this year. I think I’m figuring it out now. Baby steps. Got to build up some core strength before tackling any mountains. I can walk. There’s nothing wrong with walking. In fact, it’s always been my preferred activity… except when I’m feeling like it’s my only option. I may not be as yoga-rific as I was a year ago, but I’ve still got it and I can still do it.

My journal reminds me that I am not that crippled woman who was struggling to get in and out of bed eight months ago. I know there are people who are far worse off – for whom broken means they are literally without the use of a limb or worse, a mind!

I am hereby officially revising my resolutions. No more talk about fat pants. I’ve got to accept the fact that I am in recovery mode and start being thankful that I really have nothing serious to whine about. As with everything else in life, it’s better to look at what can be done than focus on what can not.

I’m officially done whining. Thanks for listening.