My Self Image Isn’t Fitting Into My Jeans

Hey, it happens. I have been hitting it out of the park this last couple of weeks. Well, to me, anyways. I have been working out faithfully. My house has actually looked really darned clean. The husband has been coming home in a good mood. My kids have behaved relatively well. My yard looks incredible and my garden is actually producing in spite of a wonky growing season. So why the heck don’t my pants fit?

Every day when I work out in the heat to Jillian’s voice telling me cruel things, I feel like I have lost five pounds by the time I get through the shower. On my way out of the bathroom, I do the usual scope in the mirror and think, “Dang! You don’t look that bad for having three kids!” Then I get to the closet and the cubbies full of clothes. It’s true, I do have seasonal favorites. But no one wants to feel like a sausage in the middle of a delayed summer. I pass on most of the selection.

What did I eat all last winter? As I sigh and pick up a good ol standby pair of capri’s, I remember the biscuits and gravy binge I went on last November. Then I think about all the nights we busted out the secret family recipe cookies. Or the pizza that just sounded too good to live without.  Silently I give myself the ol pep talk of “You do realize you are going to be 31 in a month or so, right? How many years have you said you would work out all winter long, so when summer hit you could hit the beach like you were 21? How’s that self-discipline coming along?”

As I hear the kids fighting in the other room my evil little mind replies, “You know, it wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t feel like I deserved a treat. All it takes is a quick trip to Walmart or a fast food joint and you’ll start feeling like you ARE in those pants that you so longingly look at. You’re average, what are you worried about?” Dang. That’s some tough competition there.

Now, I have to say as a mom, it is just flat out TOUGH to take the time to accomplish everything and still take care of you. There are some times in an already breathless state, I just about choke to find the air to tell my kids to stop fighting while I am working out. Or I have the one who likes to give me their personal agenda while I am on the floor doing my ab workout. Talk about a captive audience! Not to mention, the nights when I feel like I would kill for a brownie or two after the kids go to bed. Oh yeah, I’ve been talked into a few bowls of ice cream at that eight o’clock p.m. hour too…

The other part of it is that I don’t think I want to retrain my mind into the thought pattern of “You really need to lose some weight”. I keep seeing all these advocates for natural beauty and regular size models. I am all for that and not feeling like we need to be a size 2 to be our best. I don’t want to feel like I am starving to get by. I DO however, want to feel and look like I am physically fit. I want to know where the girl went who was back down to a 0 just a few months after giving birth to their first baby! HA! I kid, but I would take a healthy size 6 again. It’s been a rough year. And after seeing some of the pictures posted of myself, I wanted to cry. I thought that haircut was sexy, that outfit was slimming, and it just had to be the angle.

I’ve worked really hard on the daily affirmations: you are pretty, you are smart. You are more than just a mom; you have skills and a brain. You can be inspired and do something while you are at home with your children. Then I started carving out time to start working on it. I felt witty again. I felt engaging. I had conversations that sounded more intelligent than what I made for dinner the other night or the fight the kids had. Albeit, some of the conversations may have been with myself; they still count. I don’t want to tell myself that I am unattractive and overweight right after all of that!

Granted, I am starting to notice that for all the grunting and pushing through the pain  mid-workout, things are fitting better. I put out an ad for an exercise bike and went on a walk before I grabbed a brownie from the fridge last night. I’m still trying to decide whether or not to wrap my giant head around the fact that the pants don’t fit yet or celebrate my persistence and confidence.