sexy back??

so i'm a fucking slacker. don't rub it in, i've been beating my own ass about it for the past couple of weeks. not that it's doing any good; i haven't had a workout in over a week, and my diet has been SHIT. 


now here is where the usual excuses come in: i started a new job and i'm not a morning person, so i can't just get up, workout, and shower before everyone else starts moving. then, after work, i still have to get supper and help with homework and bathe the kids and put them to bed and blah blah FUCKING BLAH. plus, i started my period on my first day of work, and NOW i seem to have caught some kind of fucking plague from the chick i was filling in for in the first place. 


well you know what? FUCK YOU SELF!! you lazy ass, excuse making BITCH. i realize now, that *I* am my own biggest obstacle in this road to fitness, what with all my excuses and "i'll get back on track tomorrows."

but that doesn't work either. beat myself up, i feel guilty and useless, then guess what? i bottom out and get depressed. and that means i'm all like, "FUCK THIS SHIT, let's get a fried chicken dinner with poutine style fries and a 2L Pepsi!" which is EXACTLY what i did yesterday. and of course that was under the guise of "let's get some takeout as a treat for baby's birthday dinner, and that way i can get her cake frosted faster because i won't be busy cooking or cleaning the fucking kitchen." that was total BULLFUCKINGSHIT of the purest variety. i had a bad case of the FUCKITS, and used my poor little baby's birthday as an opportunity to fuck myself over.


so obviously, SOMETHING is not working. the food journalling is fine, i know it helps. i can tell it does because on the days i keep my little notebook out within arm's reach, i do really good at portion control and actually eating instead of just existing on the calories from my endless "coffee, 2 sugar."


what i am lacking is motivation and drive. this led me to think today {i am sick with some kind of fucking flu/plague/living DEATH, so forbidden from working out} that maybe i need to re-evaluate just why the fuck i'm doing this. well, like i mentioned before, when i first wrote out my whole workout program, i want to fit into those sexy jeans from 2008. BUT that is not enough, that is not what i REALLY want and should be striving for. 


i'm actually happy with my body as is. i'm no supermodel, but i am not ugly. i have a great ass, long shapely legs up to my neck, decent boobage, and even though it's far from flat OR smooth, my tummy is not THAT repulsive. for the first time in YEARS {maybe in my whole life!} i can stand naked in front of the mirror and not cringe in shame. my body is far from perfect, but those little things don't bother me so much anymore. so i have loose skin, stretch marks, and a bit of flab on my midsection. those are my battle scars from overcoming childhood obesity AND an eating disorder, not to mention the fact that i brought 3 very large, healthy, and robust little humans into this world. so my boobs aren't perky and have been stretched out a few times due to weight gain, pregnancy and breastfeeding. that's nothing to be ashamed of. even if they do someday make their final descent down to my fucking belly button, they are still beautiful. i fed my children from them, and if that isn't something to be proud of them for, i don't know what is. 

i love my body, i really do. and not just because of what it did and what it is capable of doing. there are some shallow reasons as well. i like how certain pants just hug the curve of my butt and hips, and the way BF will worshipfully rub, grope, and grab this ample booty of mine, like a man possessed. i like the double takes and unabashed stares that i get when i'm in short shorts or skirts showcasing my long brown legs. i LOVE how when i'm lying in bed with just a tank and panties, reading a book and not feeling particularly sexy, BF will just dive into the bed to hug, kiss, rub, and basically worship my legs and ass. i love how i can be naked with him, and not worry that my tummy is bulging or the lighting is making the cellulite more prominent.

so WHY do i want to this? why do i want to religiously record every fucking calorie, EVERY FUCKING DAY? why do i start every fucking day with an assortment of pills, potions, and powders that i have spent literally HOURS researching, and schedule my meals, activities and EVERYTHING around them? WHY, OH WHY do i want to work myself into a sweating, swearing mess 4-5 times a week by jumping, running, weight lifting, and pushing my body to its absolute fucking limits? why, if i am happy with the way i look and my BF turns into a walking fucking hard-on of a teenage boy {at the age of 40} every time the booty shorts come out, do i persist in torturing myself over this? why don't i just ease off and cut myself some slack if i know that he will {and he has in the past} still love and lust after me if i was a bit more "fluffy" or "festively plump"? WHY FUCKING BOTHER?


i'll tell you why. MY CHILDREN. they need an active role model, they need a mom who can run, play, jump, and take them for endless outdoor adventures without getting tired. but not only that. they need a MOM. they need me for first dates, first jobs, first loves and heartbreaks, weddings, children... the focus needs to be taken off of my looks, because that is NOT what matters. it's a welcome side effect of active living and clean eating, but it's not what i should be striving for.


my father died prematurely of heart failure. on both sides of my family, there is history of heart diease, strokes, diabetes, osteoporosis, and cancer. TONS of cancer. cancer of the breast, colon, pancreas, prostate, cervix, ovaries... basically cancer of EVERYTHING you can have cancer in, it's hanging there off the old family tree like some bad fruit. 


so what kind of SELFISH CUNT would i be if i just ignored all that, and kept eating the processed, packaged SHIT i used to, simply because it's on sale or easier to make? how could i ever begin to justify eating, and feeding to my family, foods that are not only filled with artificial flavors, colors, nd preservatives, but also known carcinogens, ESPECIALLY with my family history? how could i just sit and watch tv or facebook, not worrying about cardio or weights, even though my man loves me at ANY size?


i can't. i can't do it. not to myself, not to my children... or their children. so, these beautiful little people that i made are now my motivation. sure, my sexy jeans are still hung in a prominent place in my closet so that i see them every day.. BUT closet doors can be closed, and i can't see those pants while rummaging through the fridge in boredom. but my kids? they are ALWAYS with me, always foremost in my thoughts. my main motivation is no longer my desire for toned arms and a six-pack of rippling abdominal muscles. from this point on, my motivation, my reason to power through those grueling, sweaty battles with myself, is going to be the desire to be here, alive and well, for my children, for as long as humanly possible.