Weighty Weight

I walked this week. I’m trying to do it enough to make it a habit. I didn’t have active role models growing up, so now i need to be that for myself and my kids. One motivating factor to get out of the house this week was to get away from my kids! They were with me, but if we are not in the home zone, then I am out of the whining/fighting/bickering zone. If I take them outside, my son gets to watch for changing leaves, birds, and cars passing by. He has to pay attention to not get hit, and not whether or not his sister swiped his favorite toy.

Sister, no swiping! Sister, no swiping! SISTER, NOOOOOOO Swiping!!! (for you Dora hostages fans)

If i’m outside walking, my daughter is in a stroller, and not jumping and diving onto/off of/under/over the couch/ottoman/hallway/chair. She’s strapped to a moving contraption and she is lulled into the monotonous whirr of the tires on the pavement, mommy’s spastic breathing, her brother’s incessant chatting, mommy’s wheezing, the cars honking as they nearly miss my kid wandering into the road beside me….. “i didn’t realize mommy was asthmatic..??”

If the weather is crappy, or i’m less motivated by the lack of whining (i.e. son is at school so daughter has free reign over all toys) I talk myself onto the treadmill. I have to find a really good show to keep my eyes away from the ticking timer in LARGE GLOWING numbers at the TIP TOP of my screen. I seriously suspect the timers on those things are rigged to a 87 second minute rather than 60. I’m gonna look into that. One show that I stumbled upon for this is “Ridiculousness” on MTV. My brother and SIL turned me onto this a while back and i haven’t decided if i hate them or love them for doing this. I love the comments almost as much as the videos. The irony and karma is not lost on me while my giant jelly body is walking on a treadmill while I watch and laugh at others who are injuring themselves in equally catastrophic scenarios.

But it works.

And this big ‘un needs to go with whatever works right now.

What my ass needs to do is convince itself to stay on the couch when I want to snack on something. I haven’t found the common sense discipline yet to ONLY stock the fridge and pantry with healthy options…. nooOOOOOooo. That’s for pussies. That’s for pansy-asses who can’t handle a challenge. I see the cookies on the kitchen counter as a challenge to my will.

My failing and weak will. If i could harness that weakness into a strength, i’d be golden. Golden and only 200lbs. If i could put the cookies in a super glue sealed container and dangle them in front of the treadmill…… perhaps it would motivate me more.

Better yet, if i put BOTH children in a sealed air tight closed and locked safe cage contraption behind the treadmill and give them both bazookas tarantulas RPGs Kim Kardashian ice cream, that would motivate me further.

Better yet, if i harnessed the power of my cravings and the unwillingness to deal with children high on sugar, i could RULE THE WORLD …. or just stay on the damned treadmill for longer than 20 minutes.

Onward and upward, my friends. To the land of only being obese, and not morbidly obese !

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