It’s been 34 days since the doctor put the kibosh on CrossFit because of the shoulder impingement (which still sounds like a big sally injury.) Now, I know the pony keg that is my abdomen didn’t happen in those 34 days. No, I’ve merely become acutely aware of it in the last month.
There’s a wedding in two weeks for one of TB’s friends. I have a closet full of dresses that have been my go-to frocks for such occasions for the better part of a decade. One favorite is a classic black, v-neck that hits just above the knee. The other fav is a silk magenta one-shoulder number. Both are forgiving and flattering and I can’t wear either right now.
That’s untrue. I shouldn’t wear either one. They have forgiven and flattered as much as their carefully stitched seams will allow. They tried to warn me with their gaping zippers, but I ignored their pleas and fought those zippers only to be mortified by my reflection.
What the HELL.
Thankfully, one of the second-string dresses will work. But more importantly, this has been a wake up call.
I hate shopping but if I don’t reign in this barrel chest and these voluptuous thighs, I’ll have to replace my entire wardrobe. Did I mention that I loathe shopping??
Motivation comes in many individualized forms. For some people it’s health, for others it’s self-esteem. For this girl, it’s the mall.
I’ll gladly lose 10-15 lbs (too chicken to step on the scale) to avoid the mall.
reducerenewrecycle 