Anyone who knows me knows that I so very much love going to the gym. It's my place of respite from my everyday reality. I get to go there for as many as 2 hours a day to get a break from my kids, release my frustrations, get my endorphins pumping, and try to work off the wine and the excessive amounts of food I ingest. I know that if I'm having a crappy day where nothing seems to be going my way, a good round of strength training and 30 minutes of level 14 on the stair climber will set me straight. I may smell and look a sweaty, hot mess by the time I'm done, but I feel absolutely fabulous.
When I was in high school, I was in serious good shape. I had no problem slipping into a size 2 or 4 back in those days. I ran and played sports and was always on a diet (huh, Mom?). However, the first couple years of college really took me down a beer-belly trail of yuckiness. I may have been able to funnel the heck out of Natural Light, but it didn't look naturally light on my booty after a semester. Some people gain the 'freshmen 15.' I gained the 'freshmen 40.' It wasn't pretty, folks. I never really lost my ability to keep up with the cardio, but I didn't do cardio the way you have to if you're gonna look like you do.
But, today, when these 2 playboy-model-looking girls bared their overly-tanned, overly-tattooed midsections at Gold's, my green-eyed emotions didn't stir. First, I wondered if Charlie Sheen's goddesses were doing a Southern tour, and it seemed if they weren't Charlie's, that they had their own bodies of work that the fellas at the gym were familiar with. Seriously, these guys were ludicrously following these 2 would-be Penthouse pinups around and around. I haven't seen so much rubber-necking since the last time I was on I-26.
Maybe the lack of malelovence that I would typically have for such girls was quelled by the fact that I have my babies. These broads clearly had never had anything inside of them for a 9-month span. (Maybe for a 9-minute romp somewhere. Sorry. I know that wasn't nice.) But, I have my little ones... and the body to prove it. They love me exactly as I am, and I know I'm beautiful in their eyes. I'm not a dump truck, but I'm not perfect by any standards, and, withstanding some help from Dr. 90210, I won't be flashing a chiseled tummy anytime soon. In fact, I've come to regard the fluff in my stomach as a life-long companion, tried and true.
Regardless, I'm in pretty good shape and I can keep up with my kids, which, for me, is the most imporant thing right now. Would I like to drop some extra baggage? Of course. What woman wouldn't? But, I'm all good with myself, and I like the way that feels.