Ok, it’s confession time. I’ve been a bit of a bad girl these past few months — and I’m not especially proud of my actions. I’ve lied to myself (and sort of to others.) I’ve treated my self esteem like a piece of gum on the bottom of my shoe. But I’ve also done the worst bad deed of them all — I cheated, and got lured into the evil (yet oh-so-tempting) clutches of an old boyfriend.
Yeah, remember when I told you about Taylor — my SCALE? Well, that asshat’s been back in my life for the past couple months or so, and as of this morning, I’m going to do my best to officially break up with him for good. Because all he does is make me feel fat, ugly, and totally unworthy of experiencing any sort of normal fun.
Ok, I have one more confession: Taylor has had me in such a depression about my appearance that I actually decided to skip a dinner out because I didn’t think I deserved to reward myself with good conversation, delicious cocktails, and anything remotely resembling a carb. I missed out on a really great night — all because of what that shithead told me when I woke up that day.
You see those perfectly adorable pictures of me at the top of this page? Yeah — I was a good 10 pounds thinner when those were taken about a year ago. And you know what else? I was also extremely hungry, and I wasn’t working out for fear of bulking up, and I was scared to even eat a pretzel for fear of blowing up like a balloon again. And honestly, that’s just no way to live. My relationship with Taylor was great, and he was telling me all sorts of lovely things I wanted to hear — but it turns out his adorations were short lived.
I’m turning 35-years-old in a few months, and I don’t want to go into my 35th year hating the way I look and feel all because the number on the scale isn’t what I want it to be. I want to stop beating myself up and feeling like I’ve failed somehow because my favorite pair of Seven for All Mankind Jeans only fit when I’m hungry and lethargic. Instead, I want to live the next 35 years of my life being happy, healthy, active, and eating a fuckin’ cheeseburger and fries and having a second or third margarita without worrying whether or not Taylor is going to scold me for it the next morning.
I’ve said it over and over again — Mom Sexy is a state of mind. And the only way I’m going to get there again is by holding myself accountable to my original concept of the whole Mom Sexy deal.
Mom Sexy is about being confident and happy in your own skin, and accepting yourself the way you are at THIS point in your life.
With that being said, I’m cleaning up my diet and eating well most of the time, but I’m not skipping any more dinners out in the future. I’m also getting myself back on a good workout regime, committing to exercising at least 5-6 days a week, for at least 20 minutes. Every little bit helps, right?
Most importantly, I’m going to try my absolute hardest to refocus my energy on being healthy instead of being skinny, or hitting a certain low point on the scale. After all, I’d rather be a little bit heavier and be toned and feel confident on the beach this summer than be stick-thin with all sorts of things sagging way lower than they’re supposed to.
We’ll see how it goes — and hopefully in another few weeks I’ll be feeling like my old self again — the bubbly, in-your-face preachin’ Mom Sexy pain-in-the-ass that I used to be. Stay tuned.
Image via -Paul-H/Flickr