Wednesday, June 24, 2015

Sandy Toes, Salty Kisses, and Butt Support of the American Revolution

I suck.  I suck, I suck, I suck.  I really want to be better at this blogging regularly but blogging occasionally is a hell of a lot better than not blogging at all.  Funny, I feel the same way about exercising as I do about blogging.  I think about it a lot, but don't actually get around to it a lot.  I saw something online today that said "I am fat because a tiny body couldn't hold all this awesomeness."  I feel this way about 50% of the time.  The other 50% of the time I wonder if chairs will hold me and if I will fit through certain places.  This was especially true on our recent vacation to Virginia Beach and Colonial Williamsburg.  The day we arrived I felt tremendously self-conscious and we didn't even put our swim suits on.  Day two I warmed up to the beach and stopped worrying about what I looked like and enjoyed myself.  I'm not very happy that there are pictures to prove this beach vacation but whatever.  When we left the beach and headed to Colonial Williamsburg, I thought I was in the clear - no such luck.  I forgot about one thing - the dreaded Colonial chair.  Not only did many of the Colonial doors into the Colonial buildings open in the middle only giving you half the Colonial doorway to squeeze through, but there were these chairs - Colonial chairs - that are historically accurate to the Colonial time period in material and construction.  Apparently, I am not historically accurate to the Colonial time period because these suckers hurt.  They were about half the size of my butt with knobs that poked in some not-so-comfortable places.  And that was just the design.  The materials used to make said chairs would creak and snap and basically make you feel like its the soundtrack to your ass falling on the Colonial floor.  But I survived and promised myself that I would get back in the gym as soon as the patella femoral tendonitis I had was healed.  That and as soon as the gym we joined was back in business after THE TORNADO!  That's right!  We joined a gym down the street and within a month I had hurt myself and shortly thereafter the gym was hit by an EF1 tornado.  Luckily, we were not there.  Even though it was our usual day and time to go, we didn't.  But I'm thinking there's no way more direct for God to say be happy with who you are first and if you then still want to change yourself - all the better - than with 100mph rotating winds.  So as the gym heals and I heal, I tried to take stock of my self-worth and self-esteem and realize that I am fine.  I like me.  No, I love me.  And I want to slowly but surely improve me - for my health and my family, not for vanity or appearances.  And if I ever find a time machine or develop a means for time travel, I will omit the Colonial period as a destination option.