I’m on a fresh gym kick right now. I’ve had this gym membership for about two years and every few months, something prompts me to re-engage w/ the elliptical machine. (Usually when my pants are uncomfortable.) I’ve often said that I go to the gym b/c I like my current wardrobe and want to compliment my closet rather than start over with a larger size. However, I wonder just how true that is. Would I be as bothered by baggy booty from losing 23 lbs as I seem to be about the virgin-ing muffin top from gaining those 23 (seeming all in one location) in a year?
You see the problem is that I was not properly equipt for this particular issue. From age 4 to about 15, I was an absolute STICK. Looking back at pictures, it was kind of sick. No matter what I ate and how little I did, I was thin. I graduated highschool at 5’9 and under 130 lbs. Somewhere in college, I filled out and became “normal.” I can handle normal. I’ve been told it looks good on me. I’ll take it. (It’s very convenient that my shoe and pant sizes are now the same.)
Every time I’ve been back in the gym for a few weeks and see a slight bit of progress, I’m really tempted to just stop there. I mean I’m just trying to tone up, not lose any weight. (Well, that is until I really gained more than 5 lbs….)
So, I have bad knees and shoulders. And I refuse to watch what I eat any more than the short trip it takes from my plate to my mouth. Yes, diabetes, heart disease, and obesity run in my family. Yes, salt and butter are my favorite ingredients for any meal. Yes, I know that genetics are not in my favor. BUT somehow that collection of facts is not enough to get me into the gym on a regular basis. But give me a muffin top sighting or mid-30s looking thighs 10 years too early and you’ll soon see me huffing and puffing, breaking a sweat on the leg press with my iPod in its armband and my red Nalgene water bottle at Gold’s Gym. (Correction: I don’t sweat, I glisten. And by glisten, I mean sweat like a pig 5 minutes into any workout. It’s really unattractive but I digress…)
From apples to pears, I see the shape of my future in my family. And one day I’ll be comfortable enough with myself and/or my body to not immediately react to muffin top. For right now though, I’ll submit to vanity and work to remain a salted, buttery piece of corn on the cob. (Shout out to all Iowa babies!!!)
Air kiss (b/c I’m sweaty and stink),
Jo’van
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The Truth: According to Jo'van 
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