The Fitness Wagon

Ah, the fitness wagon.  I'm a frequent passenger, but I usually buy the multi-stop ticket so I can jump on and off as I see fit (no pun intended). I'm hard core, I'm lazy. But the Fitness Wagon is always on my mind, for over a decade now it's consumed my life.

I don't want to be a fat chick anymore.

So last week I had my annual check up and I'm totally healthy. No concerns. Perfect blood sugar, cholesterol, blood pressure. No weird spots, no weird symptoms, no strange pains. C-section is healed, my body is ready for another baby.

But I'm not ready yet. I still have work to do. I still have a long ride on that Fitness Wagon to take.  So why is this so hard? Am I just lazy? Am I scared that my identity will melt away with the pounds?

I know that's ridiculous and yet, something has held me back for over ten years. Something has derailed every Fitness Wagon ride I've been on since college. Frankly, I'm sick of this bullsh*t. Excuse my French.

I've lost only 17 of the 30 pounds I set out to lose by June.  Now, June's almost over.  Still got 13 pounds to go before I'll let myself have that second baby.  So if you're waiting for pregnancy news, keep waiting.  Mommy's not allowed to do anything until she finishes this. Seriously.

So this summer, I hope I run right by you on the sidewalk. I hope I kick the pants off of Jillian Michaels and her insane workout DVDs. I hope I finally give myself the reward I deserve for all my hard work. And I hope I can finally be proud to stand next to my hot, 60-pounds-trimmer husband and feel like I belong there.

Give me a leg-up on this Fitness Wagon and then, please, keep the cookies and the cupcakes out of my way, okay?