Real Women Have Curves

So I haven't written for quite some time. I also haven't exercised. Yes, I'm a horrible lazy person. Actually, I'm not, but thanks for even THINKING about agreeing. I mean to write, like I mean to wake up at five in the morning and risk injury to shuffle my feet in a fast pace up and down my street. My neighbors would probably peer through their curtains and mumble, "Bless her fat little heart."

So, yes. I have curves. They say: "Real women have curves." Well, that obviously makes me a really, really, really, really real woman. REALLY. I'm not Jaba the Hut obese, mind you. I can get around without slithering like a slug and drooling over the site of cheesecake. ... Okay. I don't slither around like a slug.

I found out recently that a few of my gal pals have lost weight. I'm not talking about a few pounds here and there. I'm talking about "looking-great-make-you-a-little-jealous-and-want-to drown-your-fluffy-sorrows-in-a-pint-of-Chubby-Hubby" GREAT! So, I'm motivated. I even looked at myself in the bathroom, and gave myself a pep talk. Yes, I really did. Then, reality sank in.

This. Is. Really. Going. To. Suck.


I had to say it out loud. "This will suck, but you need to do this." I need to do this for my health, my kids, and my budget. (Hey, fat clothes can get expensive.) I need to do this for my self-esteem. I need to do this, because my children are inheriting my bad habits. No. Chocolate is not healthy breakfast food.

So, if I begin losing curves, which I really hope to FINALLY do...does that make me less of a real woman? Nope. It just makes my curves less dangerous.