A Month of Estrogen Reflection

As promised I told you that I was going to deliver a reflection on my previous post A Month of Estrogen. First of all, if I have twenty people on average reading each post then I'd say at least fifteen people are saying, "Well, it's obvious why you didn't succeed, Abigail. You're not trying hard enough, and you're not taking it seriously." I imagine this group of people talking in an old school British accent while puffing on their pipe, squinting through their monocle, and twisting the end of their mustache. Six people would tune in and say, "Uhhh, isn't Insanity a nine week program, and you've been doing it for three months? Something is off there, Abigail. The program only works if you follow it exactly." These people are having this thought while doing one handed push-ups on parallell bars with weights strapped to their belt and an IV of protein going straight into their jugular. Seven people closed out the post because they accidentally clicked on the link. Two people had no comment but understood at least two days in the post. Thirteen people got drunk. A cat gave itself a cute little bath where it licks its paws and bathes her face...oh, that's so cute. But most importantly, one person had an epiphany. Okay, so I know that's more than twenty, but you should know my math skills are nonexistent. 

I am the one who had an epiphany. I was dead serious when I started this little journey of trying to get to a point where I didn't feel like The Thing, and you saw exactly how it went. Sure, it looks like I didn't succeed. I am about five pounds heavier, and on the weekends or this here Christmas break, I have no reason to put on makeup or a bra before noon if at all. My level of production is hibernating and I haven't worked out in almost three weeks. Unless you count snowboarding....pain, so much pain. But, if you remember, in my opening paragraph I was focusing on being comfortable with me when I'm around my husband. I am never comfortable with me. I hate my body right now and all the new bulges that it has gained. My once tone muscles are turning flabby like; I'm scared to get caught in a windstorm because my flab will get shoot out like a flying squirrel and wooosh, there I go. My clothes do not fit, they hurt. I get winded when I eat too fast. What is happening to me? How did I let myself get to this place?

When I first met my husband, I was at my all time thinnest. I pranced around in shorts and didn't feel the need to suck in my gut. I think I literally strutted when I was around him. I was feeling bad that he signed on for that girl and he got this girl. I feel like I owe it to him to be the girl he met, and the epiphany I had is that I am so much better than that girl, or at least that's how he makes me feel. When we first met, I was so uppity about the sides that I would let him see. Every girl is like that, though. We have those mornings where we literally look in the mirror and thank God for Cover Girl and John Frieda because without those, we'd scare young children. That was the side I was trying so hard to hide, but the first time he got a glimpse of morning Abigail, I never felt more beautiful. There isn't a single day where my husband doesn't compliment me, hug me, kiss me, hold me, laugh with me, play with me, snuggle me, or tell me how special I am to him. My husband makes me feel appreciated and noticed, and genuinely makes me feel like the only girl in the world...sorry, Rihanna. I am a better person because he has seen every side of me and still loves and accepts me, and I've never felt better about myself. He sees me, and no one else.

I feel amazing around my husband; in fact, when I'm around him is when I feel the most comfortable because when I feel my worst, he can say one thing that will automatically make me feel my best. He understands, though, how I feel uncomfortable with my body, but that's all brought on by me, not him. So to create a goal with wanting to feel comfortable with myself in front of my husband was silly and thoughtless; I already do, everyday, hence the "failure" of my one month plan. If I had a different goal in mind, then something may have happened, I dunno. Maybe I would have turned into a supermodel with a rock hard body and became six inches taller with a gajabillion dollar contract for representing kimchi ads. But no, realizing that my husband loves me and finds me beautiful at this weight was reason enough for me to continue with my frumpy no make-up, no bra, all sweat pants and coffee cup look.

I often think that when goals are not completed, there is a wrong factor in the equation. Next time you set out to do something, does the cause match the effect? The only reason I am going to succeed with anything is if I use the right motivator. And if I am using how my husband makes me feel to motivate me to try to get better, that will never have an end result because I already feel the best I ever have even if I don't look it.

I love you, Reuben, thank you for fixing a damaged girl.

Other lessons learned...

Never pass up a morning to snuggle your spouse
It's not a good idea to have mixed drinks on Tuesday night
Sometimes it's okay to take a mental health day
It's not a good idea to have mixed drinks on Wednesday night
Use hand sanitizer often when in a Kindergarten classroom
It's possible to bruise a butt crack, this is also hilarious
Find a workout you enjoy to where it doesn't feel like a chore
Korean BBQ is better than Waffle House at two in the morning
Santa Claus Birthday cakes trump all other birthday cakes
Robes = ahhhhhhhh yyyyeeeeaaaahhhhh
Cramps always suck
Egg whites are delicious all the time
Do not start on the hardest mountain if you've never snowboarded before
Kinect games are amazing
I have the best life ever...