I dust off the elliptical, pull out my sneakers (while battling the cobwebs that have grown all throughout them) and look at my workout clothes that most definitely will not fit over my thighs.
Despite how they look I wiggle and jump, forcing them on. Looking in the mirror, I feel like a busted can of biscuits.
My husband passes by.
“Those new? You look nice!”
I groan as I feel the circulation slowly leaving my legs.
Why doesn’t he see what I see?
The jiggle.
The extra baby weight that I never could get rid of.
Then I move on to the rest of the house to prepare for yet another New Year’s Resolution of losing weight and exercise.
I sit in agony as I shift through my cabinets.
Mint Milanos-toss
Doritos-toss
Soda-down the drain
Pasta-I shake the box thinking of the cajun shrimp pasta that brings my family so much joy.
Cupcake mix-I think of the nights that my daughter and I would whip up impromptu cupcakes together.
My husband comes in and bypasses the mess, grabbing the Chex Mix.
“Grab a snack! Let’s watch the game!”
I look at the food surrounding me on the kitchen floor. The calories that made these workout pants too tight. The chocolatey goodness that did absolutely nothing for my complexion.
I think back to last year, this exact same time, and how motivated and determined I was to drop some weight. Now, I feel nothing but dread.
No motivation.
Pure exhaustion already.
Why does it have to be like this?
In my feelings, I grab the Milanos off the floor and go snuggle up to my husband.
Playfully, he grabs my legs and gives them a squeeze. “I love these things.”
He says it in passing, but he doesn’t realize the impact his words have on me.
He loves me. Right now, as I am. The extra pounds. My legs that have gotten a bit bigger. Heck, they even jiggle a little when I walk.
But his words, they comfort me.
“Maybe I won’t diet this year. Just find balance and work out a few days a week.” I take two cookies and close up the bag.
Control.
“That’s the way to do. Don’t stress yourself. You made two babies. Your body is going to be different.”
Different.
It can be hard to accept different. To see ourselves evolve and look at pictures where maybe our outfits were a bit more put together, our hair and makeup on point and we look a bit more well rested.
We often associate different or change with negativity, but we can’t negate how often different is beautiful, unique and holds so much promise and happiness in its imperfections.
As a society, we project these images and thoughts that we have to look a certain way. That every year we have to have some New Year’s Resolutions that will make us feel bad if we don’t fulfill it because – well – life just happens.
There are birthdays to celebrate, and you don’t want to miss out on the cake.
Vacations where you want to try local cuisines and get adventurous.
And nights where cupcakes with your daughter just have to be made.
And pasta dishes that your family absolutely adore deserve to grace your table.
There’ll be laughter.
Joy.
Feelings of happiness. Not dread.
And the little extra meat on your thighs holds these memories and moments with each glorious jiggle.
For once, don’t feel beholden to making a New Year’s Resolution. Focus on being a better version of yourself. Finding balance. Happiness.
By all means, dust off the sneakers. Pull out the workout clothes and maybe have two cookies instead of four. But don’t hang it all on a specific day. Do it because you want to be better. Stronger. Healthier.
So, for me, there will be no resolutions this year. Just a promise to myself to enjoy moments without feeling sorry for who I’ve become both physically and in spirit because I am who I am supposed to be. And for the memories each day brings, I am thankful – jiggly thighs and all.
