FINE! I'll do it
Okay, so I'm fat. Fat. Fatfatfat. Fat. Fat. No, not fluffy. Not zoftig. Not chubby. I'm a gross cow. Seriously. I don't care how cute my hair is it doesn't hide the fatty that is me.
Yes, I know, but CR, you just had a baby. You're expected to be a little heavier. Riiiight. My baby's 10 months old. I'm pretty sure my window of post-labor fattness has closed.
You know what made me fat besides an astounding lack of will power and self-love? Fast. Food. I LOVE IT. Really. I'd eat it every day (and, okay, I usually do). See, I was doing okay after I had Rosie. No one would mistake me for... Rosie O'Donnell (no, not the lesbian part of her) or Kirstie Alley pre-Jenny Craig, (Okay, so I'm not THAT fat), but I was holding my own. Nursing Rosie kicked something into gear and I got down to 165.
I'll repeat it. I got *down* to One Hundred Sixty-Five pounds. Yes, down. Shut up. I hadn't been that small since .... since waaaaaaaaaaay before I got married. It's been 12 years folks. So you know what I did with the fabulous new me? I gave myself permission to go to McKillers and load up on the cholesterol and calories. And now? Now I don't even know how much I weigh, but I went to get my license renewed (Guess who's having a birrrrrrrrrrthday!) and when Carrie K (who I went to high school with and J to grade school with)'s mom (who works for the DVM) asked me if I still had brown hair and blue eyes (yes and yes) and if I still weighed 180 pounds (SHUT UP. Yes, GOSH, I KNOOOOOOOWWW, that's YOOOOOGE) and I answered, "yes?"? Well, I waited for her to laugh and say, "I'll just put down 195."
Thing is, I have no idea what I weigh. I'm gonna bet the farm and say it's not within the AMA's recommended guidelines. I don't want to stand on the scale. I don't want to know. I just want to do better (she says after ingesting a Tac0 Be!! #1 combo with a Mt. Dew). The reason I want to do better?
My kids? Sure, them. But the reality? The other days my toes went numb. That scared me. I don't want diabetes and I damn sure don't want to lose my TOES. Yes, I want to be around to see my daughters have their daughters, but the real reason? I don't want to die.
