Here is my idea figure. Ridiculous, isn't it. I'm not kidding. I don't know any woman who is ever "kidding" about her outer appearance. We may pretend to kid, but deep down there is always some unsettling feeling that makes our unsatisfaction quicken. My husband and I, for the past week and a half, have gone to the gym everyday. Here is the part where the fitness experts shake their heads and sternly say, "...three times a week... you'll hurt yourself like that!" There is a brand new gym in our small town. Both Chris and I were adamant about getting a gym membership after looking down at the growing pudges beneath our chests. We had tried the free way. We went to the park for three days (these were spaced over a week) and then, well, we didn't go again. Chris and I were too easily succumbed to the excuses we made for ourselves.
There is something about a new facility that screams, "Use me!" At least, it screamed that to me. So began our week long (and hopefully much longer) love affair with the gym. This gym had everything, not to mention the technological gadgets. There was absolutely no excuse not to work out now. And it was 24/7! We are late night people, and I really like the idea of going to the gym at 11 pm! (Insomniac)
Last night as I stepped from the elliptical machine, I wondered, "Why?" Why? Because I want to look like that! (Picture) Why is it that I am never satisfied with myself. God gave me this body there's no reason I shouldn't be satisfied with it. I have not taken good care of it as of late, but that's why I'm trying to reverse the effects I've achieved. Once that is done, will I be happy with it, or will I find something else wrong with it? My friends and I talk about this often, how we feel the need to be skinny and look good. It's media pressure, but we can't get away from it, even if we turn off the cable. Our biggest topic is how we lament over what we looked like five years ago. Isn't that true. Don't we all do that. So, why, again, can we not be happy with ourselves the way we are?
Deception, lies, trickery. It's all from that infamous angel we call Devil. I imagine, him in an overworked musky factory with lies at one end of the belt and then a pretty little package with our favorite color on the end. (With our names on it, of course.) We see images of gorgeous women and hope, secretly, that one we will look like that. The truth of the matter is that that woman wasn't even a real picture, but a compilation or maybe a photo shopped image of the near perfect model. Then we get pictures of the woman above in our minds and become so distressed when the results are not the same. If you are anything like me, you proceed to gorge yourself on all the food that you denied yourself one month earlier.
Years from now, I wonder if I will be doing the same thing to myself as now. I might be sitting at a table, drinking coffee with friends and lamenting over how we looked those first years of marriage and wishing we were happy. I won't be that person anymore. I'll be happy with what I have, and take care of it. Life will be so much simpler!
