Fat is sneaky.
You know it’s coming, because since Christmas all you’ve eaten is junk. And on top of that you haven’t been able to work out because you’ve been sick. On top of that you’ve had two kids, you’re in your mid-30s, and there’s no going back to the metabolism you had in your teens.
But nevertheless, fat creeps up on you gradually, until one day you remove your clothing before a shower and catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and there they are: LOVE HANDLES.
Now, I admit to being a momma with a muffintop. My muffintop and I have become good friends – it lets me stuff it mercilessly into my pants and squeeze it with the insistence of going down a notch on the belt buckle. And, in return, I release it from its restrained misery and allow it to respond to gravity’s call at the end of the day. I’m okay with this relationship. It grows and shrinks in response to my water (and McDonald’s) intake or current exercise levels, and I’ve become adept at managing it so it isn’t out of control. I’ve got no disillusions about my muffintop, and while I’m keen to suck it in should the outfit require me to do so, I’ve also been known to prove to people that it still exists if the outfit does not. (Sorry, Brittany). The thing is, while the muffintop might hang a bit over the top of my jeans, it all smooths back out when the day is done.
I work out fairly regularly. I eat junk, but I really make a daily effort to balance it with food that will actually nourish my body. Being sick though has done me in, and nearly 3 weeks of no exercise and “comfort food,” and there they are: two lumps of fatty mush residing just above my hips. And these bad boys don’t smooth out. Nope, they’ve decided they like it there, and that the rules of gravity don’t apply to them.
I don’t think I’ve ever had love handles before. I’m mushy and smushy, I’ve got dimples in my thighs, and I’ve been sucking in my pooch since I was on my high school swim team. But I’m pretty active and have done well maintaining my weight, so this was new territory for me.
I know, boo hoo.
But, after taking one in each hand and squeezing them a bit to be sure they were real, and pressing down on them to see if I could make my body reabsorb them, I realized that those blobs of ugly fat had snuck up on me, they were, in fact, quite real, and that they wouldn’t go away on their own. I was 100% to blame for their existence, but I was also 100% capable of doing something about it. And believe me, I will be doing something about it.
Besides, my muffintop says there isn’t room enough for all of them. 😀