OK. I've been crabbing about my weight and my lethargic body and soul. And everyone has been so nice telling me I look great. Thanks! I really do appreciate it. But I need to get in better shape. I just feel icky. Here is the damage:
158.8 pounds, 36.6 percent body fat.
When I got married, I weighed 122 and had 20 percent body fat. I could do push-ups as well as any man and kick anyone in the head, even if they were standing next to me.
Even then, my thighs had dimples and rubbed together, and my belly stuck out farther than my boobs. That hasn't changed.
It sucks to weigh more than my dad did. Mostly it sucks not to be able to kick people in the head anymore.
Well, OK, I couldn't kick everyone in the head. The largest person around was 6'7" and I got him good more than once. So, over 6'7" I don't actually know.
And I suppose I couldn't do push-ups as well as, say, professional football players. But I held my own against the men, and they knew it. I always tried to be faster than at least one man I was training with.
The coolest thing was that I could scare great big men who outweighed me by 150 pounds. I think I only scare my kids now, when I'm on a cleaning frenzy, which is rare.
So, from now on, I'll post my weight and body fat every Tuesday. Maybe it will help inspire me to stop eating so damn much and get off my extra-large, oh-so-squooshy buns. Kelsey likes me better squooshy, she says.