ME First!
I’ve had the same excuse to get out of workouts for years: I’m too busy! Initially, I was too busy being a new mommy. Then I was too busy raising a toddler. After that, I was too busy homeschooling my son, and when he began attending public school in 3rd grade, well, I was too busy cleaning house.
Every night, I’d go to bed thinking that tomorrow I’d find time to exercise. And every morning I’d get up intending to work out… just as soon as I cleaned house, did the laundry, blogged a little, and worked on my freelance writing job. But once those things were out of the way it was time to pick my son up from school. Then it was time to help with homework. Then I had to start dinner. Then there were dishes. And then… Wow, bedtime again already? Okay, tomorrow I’ll start working out.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
You may have noticed since I started exercising earlier this month that I haven’t been blogging as much. If you could see through your monitor and mine, you’d also notice that the house — although “clean” in the general sense — isn’t as spotless as it used to be. There’s even a load of laundry piling up near the washer. And, while I’m still doing my freelance work (hey, a girl’s got to pay bills!), I’m pretty much leaving it for the evenings and weekends.
Picking my son up from school? Helping with homework? Making dinner? Dishes? Yes, I still do them — and will probably have to continue doing so until I win the lottery and can afford a nanny, a cook and a maid. (Dream big, I always say.)
In the meantime I’ve made a commitment that everything else has to take a backseat to my morning workout (even on days I don’t feel like it). That felt selfish to me at first — how dare I spend the entire morning not working AND doing something just for myself? — but after a while it began making sense. A lot of sense.
Being overweight is bad for me as well as my family. I’m sick most of the time with conditions that are related to being overweight. My feet and joints hurt from carrying around excess poundage, so I’m not nearly as productive as I could be. I don’t have much energy to play with my son. I hate taking him to the playground because my clothing options are limited to miserably tight jeans or baggy, ugly sweats.
I don’t like meeting new people — even longtime blogging friends — because I am embarrassed about my weight. (There’s nothing worse than being told “you have such a pretty face” and knowing that, because of your weight, that’s the kindest compliment they can think up.)
And don’t even get me started on how it’s affected my sex life.
Then there’s the fact — and it’s indisputable, really — that being overweight increases the risk of diabetes, coronary problems, dementia and arthritis. In short, being fat is life-threatening even when it doesn’t seem life-threatening: not only does it diminish my quality of life, but every day I carry around excess weight means a shorter lifespan, too.
There’s NO bag of chips, slice of pizza, bowl of ice cream, burger or fried what-have-you that’s worth giving up even one day of my life. And, honestly, looking back I can’t say that I’ve eaten anything worth that trade, either.
That’s how I’m looking at things these days: is that pile of laundry more urgent than my improving my health? No. How about the dust on the living room table? Nope, not that either. Do email, reading the news and keeping my blogs contribute more to my health and quality of life than increasing my flexibility, stamina and cardiovascular health? To quote Whitney Houston: Oh hell to the no.
I let myself get fat by putting other things ahead of my fitness. The only way to reverse that? Well, that’s just it: to reverse that by putting ME first.
