Remember when....

Hey, it's me! 

Remember way back when in August I said I'd be back to blogging?

Remember when I used to use this blog to confess my I'm-a-kinesiologist-in-training-and-absolutely-know-better trespasses against my athletic physique?

Remember back in the spring, when I was practically SKINNY??

Remember when I qualified as a "runner"?

Remember when it didn't hurt to wear pants that don't belong to Mr. Man?

Remember when I used to fit a bra without that horrid my-boobs-are-too-big-for-this-but-I-apparently-like-to-look-like-a-hootchie-with-the-boob-bulge-over-this-line thing going on?  Because I had fantastically SMALL boobs????

Remember when I could do the 300 workout in under an hour, and found some definition under all my post-baby belly fat??

Remember when I used to love Yogilates??

Remember when I did the 30-day-challenge with some friends to test if we had any idea what we were talking about trying to help people with weightloss goals??

uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuggggggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I have been itching to blog for...well, months, now.  But I've been WAY too embarrassed.  My CLOTHES do NOT fit, and I'm not even only talking about my fantastic, new-within-the-last-year-since-I-ACTUALLY-hit-the-impossible-Gap-8 clothes (which, by the way, are excruciatingly painful, if I can get them on at ALL...).  I saw my reflection the other day while cooking in my mom's kitchen for Thanksgiving - I'm HONESTLY starting to look like a fat girl - my thighs come so so soooooooo together WAY too early at what should be the top of my legs, but is really around my knees... it makes each movement look like one leg is going to have to go through the other in order to take a step forward.  I mean, I have giant, soccer-playing legs to begin with, but then there's all this...this.... GROSSSSSSSSSSSS around it and it's busting out of my pants.  And let's not even get INto my muffin top.  I mean, muffins?  PLEASE!  This is an entire CAKE busting out of not just the top of my pants (belt is like the cruelest word EVER right now - I fold over and cry in pain at the thought of attempting to cinch around this monstrosity).  And not only my pants, but my shirts, blouses....  If I'm not wearing a pair of my husband's baggy jeans and a sweatshirt I can guarantee you I am agonizingly uncomfortable, and super overly conscious of every jiggle, wiggle, waggle, and cellulite-loaded flapping-in-the-wind. 

I. Feel. Disgusting. 

My treadmill is STILL broken.  That thing has turned out to be the biggest joke on me, EVER.  And I KNOW the weather's actually PERFECT for running right now, because it's just cool enough without being biting, to keep a run a very comfortable affair.... but I'm so FAT and my running clothes, OBVIOUSLY are not MEANT to be worn by someone as chunky as me.  I feel like taking this thing out, dressed in THAT, is just cruelty to the world... and I can't seem to get myself past that mental hurdle and out on the street to go for a run.  I feel like I NEED my treadmill operational or I'm just going to keep expanding until I explode....which could be very soon because, SERIOUSLY, my clothes don't fit.  (Cautionary note: if you're hanging out with me any time soon, you MAY want to wear safety goggles to protect your eyes from sky-rocketing buttons flying from my overtaxed apparel...)

Please please, don't post that I'm silly, that I look great, and you don't know what I'm talking about.  YOU'RE silly if you can't see the difference between now and back when school ended and I was on top of things.  School ended, my routine got off, and it's just never gotten back on.  I'm NOT crazy.  I may slightly overstate the problem, but it is a problem.  When your mother will (grudgingly - she's still my mom! I'm always gorgeous to her) admit to you that your weight is ballooning you KNOW there's a problem. 
I can tell every morning when I open my drawers that there's a problem....

Though I know that I haven't been pregnant I was kinda' hoping that maybe by NOW I'd be pregnant and I could kind of excuse myself my holy-super-fatty transgressions and aim for slower-weight-gain pregnancy this time around.  BUT, of course, as in keeping with the year, I am NOT.  Big surprise there. 

So... I can keep wallowing in my expand-a-butt glory...which has honestly been going on for months.  And, really, may continue.  Or I can do something about it.  I hope I do something about it - I'm tired of feeling like this.  My brother's perfectly petite, dwarf-of-a-girlfriend came for Thanksgiving, ate reasonable amounts of food, and after her ONE splurge the entire weekend says "oh, I workout."  Well, congratulations, and hooray for you.  Even when I HAVE a really long, good go of on-the-wagon working out, I NEVER have and never WILL have the obvious success YOU have, so please, yes, rub that in my chipmunk-cheeked face again. 

You know what else is just ironic about the whole thing??  I'm currently growing my hair out.  hahaha  Okay, so I know I'm the only person on the planet who would ever find that funny, but last time I cut it short, before I got pregnant and had Little Miss, I always said I'd never ever grow it out long again unless I lost a tonne of weight and actually hit size 8.  Which I NEVER thought would be possible.  But I just think I look so extra CHUNKY with long hair, and I should keep it shorter unless my face was thin enough to pull it off....  Anyway, so I LOSE all the weight, do that silly play (remember when I was in a play?) and then decide life will be easier if my hair is longer NEXT year when we do the play again..... so I'm growing my hair out.  And I'm probably the fattest I've been in the last three years, barring immediately after giving birth.

Mom thinks my waist size is directly linked to my happiness level. 

I just think I need to figure out this stupid food problem.  I hate food. 

I need some popcorn.