I am not an obese person. I want to clear that up right off the bat. This here is not the equivalent of a ‘My 600 Pound Life’ episode– in fact, I’m actually still pretty tiny by average standards. But, I was an athlete from high school through college, and we all know what happens to athletes that eventually have to end the love affair with their sport. They get fat. It’s a sad, unhappy truth, and it’s (sort of) happening to me.
I’m very much used to never having to do much of anything to stay in shape. My body, with its threshold of stored muscle from years of sports, has always been relatively easy to maintain. When summer would come around and I’d have to spend some time in a bikini again, I sometimes crash-dieted a few pounds off, but for the most part I was essentially always bikini-ready. This was useful in college, when I was doing things like competing in (read: winning) wet T-shirt contests every weekend during spring semester. Now that I’ve graduated and am stuck in my cube for all seasons, including summer, I’m not only pale as the underbelly of a fish right now, I’m also developing what I like to call a Post Grad Body. I need a chair with good back support because my core strength ain’t what it used to be. My thighs spread a little more than they used to when I sit down in aforementioned ergonomic chair. I have a little more padding on the back of my hips than I did when I was running sprints every day during team conditioning.
I noticed what was happening to my chubby, pale self a few months back and adopted a “no problem” attitude. This could be easily remedied. I just needed to spend a few more hours at the gym a week, eat a little more salad, and probably drink a few less beers on the weekend. And for a few weeks, that plan went really well. The issue is that to really see a change of any kind, consistency must be at least somewhat involved, and consistency and I are not on the best terms. So, I went to a friend’s wedding and had a few cocktails too many during the reception. And then there was that huge trip I’d been planning with my significant other that involved no gym time and a lot of eating out (food, not vagina, you sickos). Then there was a bachelorette party I couldn’t miss, and then May was gone.
Summer is here, and I’m still fat.
I’ll admit, I’m starting to panic a little bit now. I had everything under control, until I didn’t, because this isn’t college and I’m not trying to recover from a rough weekend. I’m trying to recover from a much longer period of time of basically just not doing shit. I’m starting with a weaker muscle threshold and a lot more fat than I know what to do with, and I’m freaking out. I tried telling myself that I’ll be in a bikini less often now, because I work full-time and have less expendable hours to spend lounging by the pool, but there are still plenty of times I’m going to need to wear a dress or a crop top this summer and I legitimately do not know how I’m going to pull it off. This is not a crash diet situation — this is a regular diet and possible habit-changing situation, and I’m fucking terrified. But I can’t just sit here stewing in my own fat. I don’t want to be that girl who “used to be in shape.” I don’t want to say things like “back when I could do a push up,” and I definitely don’t want to become the sort of person who wants to have sex in the dark so their significant other doesn’t see their love handles. I’m all about appreciating and being happy with your body; this is not a body positivity issue. If anything, my ego is bigger than it should be given what I’m working with. I, however, am not content with mediocrity in this matter. I want more than that; I want a bangin’ body. And, dammit, I’m going to have it.
That said, I did just get a text asking if I wanted to go to sushi happy hour after work. We’ll see if I wind up with more in the way of a better body, or just more in the way of wasabi for today. Wish me luck. I think I’ve made it clear that I really, really need it..