Does this blog make me look P.H.A.T.?

I can’t fit into my pants!!!

I’d like to blame everything else but my fall off the workout wagon and the subsequent widening of my waistline, but I can’t. Truth is, since my return to North Carolina and the crazy schedule with my new job, I’ve skipped working out more times than I had excuses for. On top of that, although I don’t eat a lot - okay, I eat a lot. But I'm a grazer and a closet eater. That means, in public, I'm modest about what I eat. Behind closed doors, however, you can find me in and out of the kitchen eating anything I convince myself is a small enough portion to be okay - except that I'm eating multiple small portions.

And one spoon of frosting turns into two or three - an hour. 

After almost three months, my butt and thighs can’t even be shoe-horned into my size five jeans. At least not without a decent amount of muffin-top pouring out of them - which makes it look like I'm wearing a pool toy around my hips.It doesn’t help to see my 15-year old daughter effortlessly slip on the same jeans I only months ago was able to get into.

So, I resolved to start working out again. I had to – a new wardrobe isn’t cheap. And I want my jeans back from my kid.

Working out itself is not hard – it’s the getting started part and being consistent that’s difficult. It’s so easy to over-nap and blame a long day at work. Trust me – I’ve definitely procrasti-napped. I've also found that a lot more cleaning and laundry get done while I'm trying to keep up with a workout schedule. But, I’m running out of clothing options and without the paycheck to support new clothes, working out has gone from being a choice to a necessity.

My first day, I made it a half mile and felt as if my lungs were going to explode. Every breath was like fire and ice - an icy fire. There was no WOD after, only a temporary death on my living room floor that lasted into the next morning. The pain was almost unbearable , I couldn't move my body in fear of something dislocating.  

Seriously, that was the first day. My body was arguing with my resolve, telling me I could wear stretchy pants and tunics and no one would care.

But I would. And yes, I said tunics. 

So, I forced myself to work out at least three to four days a week, starting small and working up to a decent workout.

Here I am, just a few weeks later and I’m up to two miles a day and a short crossfit or body weight workout after on the days I am able to work out. I’ve included the squat and ab challenge on alternate days. We won't even talk about how hard it's been to sit on my ass after the squats. It hurts. 

Have I lost weight? Not a lot. But everything is toning up and I really like having an ass and thighs that look healthy instead of skinny. 

I made a commitment to get back into the shape I was in a few months ago. I’ve stopped making excuses and started fitting my workouts in my schedule. I’ve also let my daughter know, all those clothes she took from me because I couldn’t fit in them – she should hang on to them just in case I don’t get all the way back into them.  

Haha.