I really let my strength training go by the wayside. Truth is, I like cardio better. So I rebelled. And then I fell off a ladder painting the house and couldn't exercise for a while (but not as long as I didn't exercise, you know how it is). Meanwhile, I ate and ate and ate, lots more calories than I needed.
So where am I today? Horrified. I'd have to lose ten pounds before I could even tell you how much I weigh. I've only weighed this much once before in my non-pregnant life, after the birth of my third baby. I don't know why I struggled so to lose weight after she was born, but I know that the pictures of me holding her as a baby don't even look like me.
If I took pictures of me now, I'd probably think the same.
This was truly a case of letting myself go, of eating whatever I want and damn the consequences. Which only works for so long, then I look in the mirror and the consequences damn me.
Exercised this morning, did strength training on my legs and my abs. I don't know how I got so wimpy, but at least I made the first fledgling steps.
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