But Pansies Are Such A Beautiful Flower

When I was in high school, I wish I would have realized how good I had it. Besides the typical, I don’t have to work, there is always food in the cupboards, I am safe because my dad will kick some major ass right before he shoots that burglar in the face, I wish I would have realized 1) how freaking skinny I was; 2) how easy it was to stay skinny; and, 3) how it was so awesome to be able to eat Taco Bell every single day and never ever, ever consider working out.

I started to realize that Taco Bell was gonna have to go when I was about 22. I started a day job. I started sitting on my ass all day and then came home, ate crap food and watched some crap TV. And then went to bed.

Weight started creeping on. I remember hitting 130. OH MY GOD!! I weigh 130 pounds. What a fat ass!! Oh no!!

Oh please. Sister, that was just the beginning. Now, I consider 130 my skinniest. Because for me to get below 130, is just about impossible. I would have to surrender way too much. Ain’t gonna happen. Momma wants a bit of junk in her trunk. And a bit of Whataburger in her hand.

I eventually gained another 20 and decided I needed to do something about it. I started hitting the double digits in clothes and started to wonder if I was gonna have to change sections in the store. (I am all ass. What a strange sentence... I gain weight first and foremost there, I am a pear.)

I hit the gym half-heartedly. Cut down a bit on fast food. I thought I was making such a sacrifice. I was changing my entire life for about 24 minutes, maybe twice a week. Of course, it didn’t work.

Gradually, I figured it out. I knew I was going to have to work harder at kicking the weight, actually sweat, eat salads, la de da …. You know the drill.

And I did it. 130 pounds again. Woot. I rock. (At 130, I was wearing 9’s just to prove yea, I am all ass.)

So to make a long story not as long, I stopped taking care of the weight, it came back. I lost it again. And now, it is back. All of it.

I have made it back up to my heaviest. Damn relationship. I am happy as can be and so we eat. And lay around and watch HGTV and snuggle. And eat Cheez-Its.

Here we go again…

Last night, after buying the most expensive wearable item I have ever purchased – new running shoes, we went running. The park we went to has a 3 mile running track. For the similarly situated in the audience, I heard you groan right along with me. 3 miles. Running.

I did not die. Amazingly.

Of course, we did not run 3 miles. We ran 2 light poles and walked 1.

Ok, that is a lie.

We walked more light poles than we ran.

But that was because of the track dust that was suffocating me, possibly causing an asthmatic coma. (Do those happen? ... It sounds good. ... Moving on.) I inhaled silicate which will scar my lungs ForEver. All for skinny thighs.

Not Craig was a wonderful coach, trying to keep me going. Or at least keep me from falling down on the track from exhaustion.

Oh...that track is long. So long...

I am such a pansy.

No. I am just not as fit as I used to be. It will take time to become She-Ra again.

No. I am a whiny pansy. A fat whiny pansy.