Dear Fat Girl, You're a Bad Wife.

Okay, so that's a LIIIIIITTLE harsh. I'm not TOTALLY fat, nor am I a bad wife. But, admittedly, I'm a little of both. 

And poor Geoffry has suffered. 

Not only because I feel fat. I mean, sure, he suffers there. Have you ever seen a girl try on thirty-five outfits, only to feel like a whale in each one, throw them all about the room, then fall into fetal position in the middle of the floor while rocking and wailing? No? Oh.... me either....................... (insert innocent whistle here. You know the one.)

I've been working on that one. I hate self-deprecation. I hate when I hear people hate on themselves, and I would NEVER want my daughter to hear a childish fit like that from her mother and think it's okay to have self-image issues. Plain and simple: it is NOT okay. And I get it. One of my many attempts at self-improvement.

I'm not obese (well, according to all the charts I am, but they're bogus. My wrist bones are as thick as a caveman's, and if I were to weigh what those stupid charts think I should, I would be emaciated). But I am, as I've dubbed it, "bigger than I'd like." I am bigger than I'd like for two reasons.
   1.  I don't exercise enough.
   2.  I eat crappy food. 

Simple.

Fact: When I eat a healthy diet (not to be confused with "when I diet." You shouldn't "diet." You should just eat healthy all the time, aka, eat a balanced and healthy diet), I lose weight. My skin clears up. My attitude improves. My self image improves.

Fact: When I eat healthy and add exercise, the sky is the limit. I pretty much rock.

Fact: When I ONLY exercise, and don't eat a healthy diet, jack crap happens. 

Conclusion: I should eat a healthy, balanced diet. All the time. And I should exercise. Then, I won't feel like crap, physically or mentally.

I know what you're thinking (because I'm not only bigger than I'd like, I'm also psychic): "How does this make Fat Girl a bad wife?"

Simple. I stay home, and Husband works. He doesn't just work, he WO-ORKS. He leaves every day at about six in the morning, and MIGHT be home for dinner, if we're lucky. But this "home for dinner" thing is a new development since we decided we're moving back to our home town (another post later). For the last, oh, year, my children were lucky to see their dad once a week, and hopefully on Sundays.

He would leave for work in the middle of the night, or early morning, and not come home until midnight. He was working 80 to 90-hour weeks, in a piece of equipment, with no refrigerator or microwave.

For some time I was sending him with AT LEAST a sandwich, chips, and an apple for the day. But then, he started leaving earlier, and coming home later, and somewhere along the way, I stopped waking up at five a.m. or four a.m. or two a.m. to make sure he had food. I didn't make it the night before, either, because, well, I was lazy? I was tired?

I was both. Lazy and tired. I was taking care of two toddlers and a nine year old on my own, and I was tired. But I was also catching up on Revenge and any other given crapTV, being a lazy lonely loser, waiting for him to come home, stuffing my face with Thin Mints and Chocolate Peanut Butter ice cream (OMG it's good). Lazy.

And he started living off Mountain Dew and Allsups fried burritos.

Dear Fat Girl,
You're a bad wife.
Sincerely,
Your Conscience.

(All you haters and feminazis, NO, he should not have to make his own lunch. I am more than a stay-at-home-mom. I am a HOME MAKER. His food is part of my job. A big part. Part of making a home. How can Husband be a good provider if he's fueled by three hours of sleep, Mountain Dew, and a Fried Apple Pie? If you'd like to discuss this further, go ahead and comment, and I'll blow your mind with homemaker philosophy.)

Husband has suffered physically because of my lack of spousal support, and today, that changes. Mind you, I've tried to get him to eat healthy before, to no avail. I think he thinks eating right means no good food, and nothing but dry spinach and roasted asparagus and brussel sprouts and kale chips (the thought of any of those things makes him want to gag). Probably because I really like that stuff and always work it in to my diet when I'm on a health kick, and even when I'm not. He will always eat what I serve him at dinner, but on work hours, it's quick and convenient, and sugar, sugar, sugar.

Poor guy has packed on a few around the middle, and, though I love him through "thick and thin"  (I don't think we really knew what that meant until we started getting older and packing on a few here and there), he's not so happy about it.

And I feel TERRIBLE!

Alas, today is a new day!

Husband is ready to make a healthy change, and I am really, really happy about it! It means a household change, and I could not be more excited. 

Before, when I was very diligent about my eating habits, I felt like I was in it alone. And I'm kind of a group-effort and accountability kind of girl. So, I failed, again, and again, and again. I need a partner, or at least someone to take care of and hold accountable, in order to make this whole healthy lifestyle work. I'm lame like that. I have always been good about keeping my kids healthy and on a balanced diet, but when it comes to filling or limiting myself with the good or the bad, I have no one to tell me NO! Now, perhaps with my partner on board, we'll see true progress.

I told the man that in order for this whole thing to work, he's going to have to eat vegetables, and he AGREED! This is HUGE, people! From here I solemnly swear not to serve him brussel sprouts, asparagus, or cooked spinach (that is not hidden into his food), but truly, I am terribly excited about this development.

I cooked a delicious and healthy meal tonight, and we're off to a healthy start. 

Wish us luck!

Sincerely,
Fat Girl (trying to be a better wife!)