Since we are on the topic of new year's resolutions, I thought I'd blog a bit today about my weight. I know I have a whole other blog devoted to this very subject but guess what. They're both my blogs! So I can do whatever I want!
Phew. Glad we got that out of the way.
My battle with the bulge has gone back for ages. When I was younger and weighing a mere 150 pounds, I thought I was fat. In February of 2005, when I began blogging, I weighed 165.5 pounds and thought I was fat. Since then, it has been a vicious cycle of gaining and losing ten pounds here and ten pounds there. Now, I'm in the high 180s. The difference is, I don't think I'm fat.
I credit age and Prozac to this current mode of thought. I'm not fat. If anything, I'm overweight. I can stand to lose a few (or forty but who's counting?) and gain some muscle tone but my reflection doesn't disgust me. I'm at the baby making age. These hips will come in handy when I have a pregnant belly to support or a wee one propped on my side. My softness is the exact ingredient needed for a good old fashioned cuddle. My ample rear? Well it cushions my fall when I speed off a wet slide and glide through the air to land on my rump.
So though I would like nothing more than to get down to 150 pounds for my wedding so that I will be a breathtaking bride, I refuse to beat myself up or call my names in the meantime. Know why? Because I love me for me. Not for my reflection. And if I love me for me, you'll love me, too - regardless of what the scale says. And so ends today's cheese.

MORAL OF THAT STORY: The new "F" word is fat. Don't use it or I'll wash your mouth out with soap!


Coodence said...


Buzz said...

Atta girl!

As for today's cheese, allow me to recommend the Asiago, there's plenty in the fridge.

Love you MB