Oh, the cruel humiliation of it all...

Here I am again (thankfully talking to no one, I am sure). It is a multitude of months later and alas, I am still fat.

How is it possible that one can obsess about one's weight, be conscious of every bit of food that goes in one's mouth and yet, almost a year later, still weigh essentially exaclty. the. same. thing?

Yes, in a feat of unprecedented suckiness, I have been losing and gaining back the same 5 pounds for almost a year. This morning, the scale said, 164. The lowest I have managed to get it to read in the past almost 12 months was 159. And that was for one measley day.

Le sigh...

The training? Yeah. Not so much. Don't get me wrong; I did it. I wrote checks for upwards of $1200 and hauled my ass to the gym for the pure humiliation of it all 2 times a week for 3 months. I did lunges the entire length of the gym, holding 12 lb weights in my hands, and I ran flights of stairs until I thought I was going to puke. I really thought I was doing everything right. And I didn't lose a pound. Not one. So, in essence, I spent over a grand to wake up early twice a week, sweat and feel like shit about myself because the fat stayed fat.

My trainer gave me grief about not coming to the gym more and it would have been great if I'd been able to. But I am not a stay at home wife. I am a stay at home mom. That means my entire day is taken up with my son and my evenings are either, a.) pieces of lost time where I space out on the couch because the child has sapped my every last drop of energy or b.) the point in the day where I look around and realize a tornado has hit my house and I have to attend to that mess now that Husband is attending to the mess that is our child. So getting to the gym more than 2 times a week really wasn't an option (rationalize, rationalize, rationalize).

Why not take Ethan to the gym and put him the "casual child care" room? Um. Because they're freaking lunatics. My trainer's estimation of her facility's child care was a vast overstatement, considering the first time I walked in, an angry old lady was yelling at a six month old for crying. Yeah, I sensed from the beginning that this was going to be a place where Ethan would thrive, right? He didn't last long; 20 minutes here and there, but not enough for me to get in a work out and I couldn't leave him there during training b/c the sessions were over an hour from start to finish and the "casual child care" can only be bothered to ignore your child for one hour at a time each day.

So here I am, still in the 160's, still feeling generally like ass about myself and wondering what it is going to take to get rid of this weight. I spent most of my 20's fat. I spent my early 30's happy with my body and now here I am again, mid-30's and fat again.

The reality I have to come to grips with is, this is my life. I do not want to look back and realize that I spent X-amount of my life looking this way, feeling this way, worrying this way. I will never get my 20s back to do over, to be thin. I can't get this time back, either. I have to find a way to make a change.

And let's be clear on one thing; I am not a junk-food, fast-food junkie. I love to treat a hangover with an egg mcmuffin and hashbrown as much as the next person, and on a road trip, I've been known to give into the nutritional sesspool that is Cracker Barrel, but we're talking a couple times a year, tops. I have never purchased a twinkie or a devil dog, nor I have I eaten a chocolate bar in FOR.EVER. I managed to get through the entire month of October this year without eating so much as one piece of Halloween candy. And yet there is still a roll of chub sticking out under my bra that compels me to wear clothing a size too big for me.

So I tend to pout and host all kinds of fabulous pity parties for myself that I eat, in general, very healthfully, and as a matter of fact, have friends whose diets consist of far worse things than mine and yet they are able to slide into size 6s and 8s without ever going to a gym or passing on dessert, while I remain tubby. I bitch and moan about how unfair it is and then, I try to find the ice cream with the lowest sugar content in the grocery store freezer and end up taking a few bites and throwing the carton away when the guilt sets in.

So fine. I'm back. I'll probably end up disappearing again in 4 days, so I won't make lofty and embarrassing promises about writing daily. But just maybe if I am putting it all down here, I'll find some source of motivation and inspiration to shed these 2o pounds.