The Hubby and I have this thing we like to do. We like to lie in bed. Really. We loll around our bed and tell each other things like, "We aren't really fat" and "We still look OK" and "Hmm...my thighs seem to have lost cellulite". Talk about honesty in marriage!
But seriously. I have come to the painful realization that I am no longer fit. I am plump. Like a chicken. I am round in the wrong places (the belly area is always the wrong place to be round, unless you're pregnant, which I am not).
Yesterday, The Hubby's family had a swimming thing in Makiling, and preparing to go there, I couldn't find a single thing to wear. I looked fat in everything. Then it dawned on me that there was nothing wrong with the mirror, or the way the light hit it. And that my denim shorts weren't just newly-washed-tight. They were just plain tight. And I really look dumpy. Woe is me.
I have to face it. I NEED to exercise. The thing is, I'd rather sleep and eat and read and work and wash the dishes and do a million other things before I exercise. Bad.
I should get back into kickboxing and swimming. It's a decision that I have to stick to. Especially since The Hubby and I are finally going on our long-overdue honeymoon in Boracay at the end of this month. Which means that I have 16 days to get myself into bikini shape.