Side note: mostly what I saw him doing as he reached the end of the pool (the only part I could see from my vantage) was look around for me. Oops. This was a very spur of the moment work out, and I had dropped him off at the door with his sister before parking. She went up to work out and I thought, "Hey, I can do that!" Not the best parental communication. But, typical of my lone wolf youngest, he just swam his little heart out, got to the end of the pool, looked around for me, and kept swimming. My Alli would have gotten out of the pool and waited for me. My Blake would have gotten out of the pool, searched the building and called 911 when he didn't find me right away. But Reid? "Eh. She'll be back." And about a third of they way through his lesson, I saw him have a moment of "I'm sure she's not upstairs working out - she doesn't do THAT anymore - but I'll look up, anyway..." and he saw me furiously waving at him from the treadmill high above. The Case of the Disappearing Mother: solved.
Okay, so I did two miles in 24 minutes during lessons, a mixture of walking, brisk walking and running. Umm, I should have done more walking, as while the running felt GREAT, I pulled and overstretched all sorts of leg muscles that have been dormant since October or so. I have been paying the price since then, but my plan is to get back on that ole dreadmill tonight during his lesson again. (This time I'll tell him where I'm going.)
Because body image is all about the mental aspect of "if you are being good, you feel good, and if you are being bad, you feel bad..." I liked what I saw when I checked myself out in the locker room mirrors. Hey, good looking! You still got it!
The next day, yesterday, I skipped lunch with friends because my thighs were so fat, it would be a terrible embarrassment to take them out in public.
The lesson I am trying to take from this is that when I am exercising regularly, I feel ridiculously good about my body. It felt GREAT to run on the treadmill - really, much too fast for me, but really great, nonetheless. I was a rock star in my own mind. Immediately after, I saw X's aunt at the drug store - I haven't seen her since the divorce or my weight loss. She said all sorts of nice things about how I looked, and I felt them all.
Twenty-four minutes. That's all it took to make me feel so awesome. I wore the clothes I wore to work. No fancy running shoes, just my tennies. (Oops, don't do that again, I got a blister, too.) But the effects were short-lived! Barely eighteen hours later and I was fat-shaming myself and eating a brownie because I wanted to feel better and I had already destroyed my body, so what does one more brownie hurt?
Julieeeeeee, you are so smart...you know all the things about what you need to do here....you know what it feels like to feel good and bad, skinny and fat, healthy and sloth. You know how to eat and exercise. Doooooooooooooooooo iiiiitttttttt.
Oh, here's the scale. Well, I held my own, anyway.
|I swear I hold the phone the same way every time,|
but it's a mystery what orientation the photos will pop in here.