So...I'm going to start writing for ME. I need a journal. I need to have a place to vent, document, whine, cry and rejoice. I've tried a real journal and by day 4 I stop writing and next thing I know it's been 2 weeks then 2 months since I've written. I miss writing. I don't do it well but that doesn't mean I don't enjoy it.
I started dance classes back in the fall. I always wanted to do something like that growing up. Our neighbors were always clogging, twirling, flipping, modeling..something. Me? I just watched them from the curb and waited for them to be done so we could play. Then wait for their recital to be done so we could play dress up in the costumes. In my house, we either had the time and no money or money and no time. So...I'm doing at 36 what I wanted to do when I was 6. I am in tap and modern. I am performing in a competition the end of April for modern and am supposed to be in the recital at the end of May for both (I'm still not sure. It depends on how well I feel I know the dances). Tap is HARD YO! Modern has come much easier to me. Both give me 2 hours a week that don't involve Steven or the kids; gives me some exercise; and gives me time with my Sara. WIN/WIN/WIN.
A year ago I was all "I can't eat. I'm so thin/weak/frail" Now I'm all..."Dude! Step away from that cookie! It's going straight to your gut and thighs!" I've never struggled with my weight (well, with being overweight...Lord knows I've struggled with being underweight). I'm not sure if it's age; being healthy instead of sick; or what but something has to give. I weigh more now that I have in probably ever (not counting being pregnant) and I. AM. MISERABLE. I think part of it is winter. I just feel BLAH all the time. So I rejoined the gym and am determined to lose about 15 pounds. But just from my stomach and thighs. Yes, I fully plan on instructing my fat cells where to disperse. I'd rather not lose the butt and boobs I've never had. I still don't eat much but there are some better choices about what I do eat that I can make. And I need exercise. Two hours a week is hardly enough for anyone.
I have to do something. I hate the gym, hate to exercise, but I hate not being happy with myself more.