I just realized the current rate at which I've been gaining weight may cause some to think I'm pregnant. (I'm not.) This is not an agreeable discovery. At this rate I will hit 200 sometime in - I'm not going there. Let's just hope it doesn't happen. If I managed to avoid 200 with my first pregnancy there is no reason to think I will hit that marker now or any time in the near future. After all, I put on an amazing amount of weight with Alex that caused strangers to comment on my impending twins. (NOTE TO VARIOUS OLD WOMEN WHO CLAIMED TO "KNOW" THESE THINGS: just one, just like I said - told you I was just fat, thank you very much) But this is another story to be told another day when I have nothing of interest to write about. (Yes, probably tomorrow.)
Now PLEASE, do not tell me to start exercising. If one more person... (NOTE TO SELF: Turn off comments. It will save much grief.)
Here's the thing about me and exercise: I HATE it. Despise it. There is not one single thing that causes me to sweat that I even remotely like. Well, one thing. Okay, two. But the first has pretty much caused me to stop doing the second.
Okay, okay, I'll tell. The second (I know you know what the first is) is dancing in clubs where the music is loud & live, there are lots of bodies to hide behind and smoke fills the air. Yes, it's been that long. I know smoke no longer fills the air in public places. Now don't suggest I plan a girls' night out to go dancing. The reasons this won't work are (in no particular order):
- I have 4 children.
- I am not ready for the stares of horror that woud accompany my return to the dance floor.
- All "my girls" are too busy with meetings, sports, scouts, and other child related events.
- None of "my girls" really drink anymore. A glass of wine puts them under the table. And how does one get on the dance floor without a drink or two?
- None of "my girls" dance anymore.
- I don't think the bands I enjoy dancing to perform anymore. (I know the Ramones just lost Johnny to cancer. :-( )
- isn't 6 enough?
I will add that I lost 30 pounds (we're talking 4 pants sizes) a little over 3 years ago - my God! Has it been that long??? Kept it off for about a year. Started working out. Started gaining. Stopped working out. Still gaining. I am now almost where I started. Not good. Especially since I gave away all my "fat" clothes. Good thing I bought some new (bigger) clothes this fall.
The big question... Do I try to lose weight again only to fail and eat even more out of depression? Do I do my best never to be home so I can't eat constantly? (This choice requires me to not have access to the computer any more - I'll think I'm going to be sick.) Or do I just throw the scale out and enjoy the fact people on the internet can't see me?