Originally posted on www.dullesmoms.com
It didn’t happen quickly. I guess that is how it sneaks up on you. Slowly but surely my once svelte body morphed into that of a plump sow bulking up for market. The largest load arrived when I was pregnant with my first born, and much to my chagrin it didn’t leave when he was born or anytime thereafter. Just when I thought the scale had been tipped as far as it could go without me having some kind of a nervous breakdown I got pregnant with my daughter, and that needle on my scale whizzed in a clockwise direction with gusto.
I have yet to lose my composure about the extra person I’m carrying around with me. But, I do realize that it’s time to drop the “friend” that has catapulted me into a double-digit clothing size I never thought I’d see. I knew the situation had gotten out of hand when I saw myself in the mirror by accident, mind you, as I would never look on purpose. What I saw in the mirror jogged a memory from my sophomore year in college when I was required to take an art appreciation class. The professor expected every nincompoop on the roster to memorize hundreds of different pieces of artwork from ancient times to present day. I have somehow managed to keep some of the works of art filed away in my brain, which I thought was most impressive and scholarly of myself, until I realized how it could come back to haunt me. Anyways…back to the vision in the mirror. I’ll cut to the chase. I saw the Venus of Willendorf. It is a statuette of an ideal woman’s body that was created around 22,000 BC. Let’s just say that in the thousands of years since the figurine was sculpted some things have changed. It appears that I am living during the wrong era.
I never used to look this way. I was a runner. I wore tight shirts and short shorts and miniscule pieces of Lycra at the beach. The children did it, and I’m bitter. It’s not that I don’t want to exercise. It’s just that like all mothers, by the time everything and everyone is washed and in its place I have to sit down. I can’t even talk to my husband. I watch my T.V. shows in a blissful, comatose state with my feet propped up. After much encouragement from my husband and more willpower than I thought it possible to muster up, I decided that I would rise at the crack of dawn to exercise. Let it be known that I am in no way a person of the morning. I do not like waking up. Even if I am waking up at 10 am, which hasn’t happened since before May 15 of 2007, I am grumpy. So, the act of getting up at the ungodly time of 6 a.m. to move my body in a swift manner is somewhat unfathomable.
The first day of my new life started with a jolt when my alarm tweeted out a tune I was not accustomed to hearing, as a wailing child usually awakens me in the morning. I made it out the door, beaming with a sense of accomplishment. I’m definitely a snooze button pusher, so the act of trundling out the door made me giddy. My walk was going quite well, but I was mourning my lack of sleep. I was feeling resentment toward my thin family at home asleep in their beds. As I turned the corner on a remote street of my neighborhood the sun was just peeping over the rounded, tree and house covered (it is northern Virginia), piedmont hillside and illuminated my backside with the aggression and fury of a freight train coming down the mountain. In a flash my lengthy, super modelesque shadow appeared out of nowhere, and at that moment I fell in love…with the morning.
Do you have any idea what your shadow looks like in the early morning? I doubt it. I will tell you this: If you are interested in looking like you just stepped off the runway in Paris then you will love your little morning buddy. Yes, your shadow might be 12 feet long, but it is so thin, and has just the kind of lovely elegance you would dream of exuding. The streets are void of life at daybreak. If only lengthy morning shadows were a commodity I could sell. I would be living the high life, and then I could hire a nanny and a personal trainer, so I could be thin and wouldn’t have to wake up early to make it happen. Oh well, I can dream can’t I? I have to have something wonderful to imagine in my head while I’m gazing intently at my morning shadow during my walk. Trust me…it’s worth setting the alarm!