I’d like to say that I have done a 180 degree turn and am now an uber runner and I eat only whole nutritious foods and have it all together. But no, sadly that number 180 is the number of pounds currently inhabiting my body. That’s the number of pounds of fat attached to the muscles of my thighs and butt. That’s the number of pounds I weighed right after I gave birth to my son nearly 11 YEARS AGO. It’s the number I never thought I would see again, EVER, yet there it is. I have gained about 15 pounds since I went to work in January and really for awhile it didn’t bother me that I was gaining because I had finally quit dieting and I felt so free – free to eat all the potatoes and pizza and chocolate I wanted. But now, I don’t feel free at all. I feel like a prisoner in a body that is hard to move around in, a body whose feet hurt after standing for a couple of hours, a body that huffs and puffs after playing “horsey” with my two year old on the floor. My fat jeans are turning into jeans that are a bit snug, and my big baggy sweatshirt doesn’t “bag” like it did a year ago. Yeah, yeah, I know we just came off of Thanksgiving, but really, 180???? I always told myself that 170 was the cut off number – the number that meant I needed to get off my duff and quick clowning around and get serious, but 180? What does that number mean? I know it’s just a number and has no bearing on the kick-ass woman that I am on the inside; I know I’m still one of the “cool kids”, (see how I am trying really hard to pump myself up J ) but I just want to look on the outside how I feel on the inside. I know I’m Heidi Klum on the inside, but it’s hard to convey that when you have Angela Landsbury staring at you in the mirror! Okay, I’m only 36, but I feel so matronly–looking, and that’s not the real me. I have just starting walking/jogging/running and I know it’s going to take time, but I am starting to panic, starting to think that I am going to be this way forever. I know I’m just a few pounds away from high blood pressure and bad knees (like my mom), so I really want to rein it in now. First I have to talk myself down off the ledge (not literally) and figure out what I am going to do. What a crappy Monday.