Thursday, March 4, 2010


I told myself when I got pregnant... "I will not be that loud, fat mother on the sidelines of my son's soccer game!" I didn't want to be that person. It wasn't me. Inside I was a healthy, strong, smart woman who knew better than to hurt myself with food. My family was health conscious. I knew that I could be more athletic and attractive if I followed their lead. So I tried.
My sisters were runners. I tried that. My sisters ate health food. I tried that. My sisters ate sensible portions. I tried that. Nothing stuck. Nothing came together as a cohesive plan.
In 1999, my son was three, and I was hovering just around 200 lbs. I was single again, and my life was busy and hectic. You would think that I would burn calories and stay on the right track, right? Uhhhhhh... no. Didn't happen.
I couldn't get myself in a daily routine that included taking care of myself. And when I met my Bunna, I found myself in a wonderful, loving relationship that made me feel so comfortable, I started to let myself go again.

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