Ahh... Fitness... And Women Are Effing Mean.

So. This.

I work out a lot. There. I said it. I also have a difficult time controlling my food. I am quite certain that if I didn't work out as much as I do, I'd be much less happy with what my body looks like than I currently am.

I've finally hit that metabolism-slow-down that I've read about. I'm 39 years old, staring down the barrell of 40 and dang it if my body didn't decide to stop burning those Reese's Peanut Butter Cups! It's frustrating.

I've always led an active life and that, coupled with some pretty terrific genetics (no apologies here), has always enabled me to eat like shit (Yes to the Big Mac, Whataburger, Fries, and powdered sugar donuts!) and still remain relatively slender. Cry me a river, right?

We, as women, are so mean. We are so judgmental. We love to look at other women's bodies in pictures and in person and both silently and vocally judge their choices. It truly doesn't matter what they look like, either. If they are toned and in fantastic shape, they must be bitchy. If they are overweight, they must be lazy. No wrinkles? Must be surgery or Botox. Wrinkles? Why doesn't she take pride in her appearance and get some Botox?

We are also pretty much bitches about anyone who makes choices about their lives and their families that don't mirror our own. It's such bullshit. I'm so sick and tired of us being mean to one another. We have such a special club, don't we? We can do such amazing and unique things. And yet, we are so damned sensitive and insecure that we cannot bear it if someone makes a different choice than we do. We internalize it, then we externalize it. Those feelings. And we try so hard to blame someone for making us feel badly about ourselves. Damn, that's a lot of power we are giving up!

Being offended is a choice. And a low self-image is also a choice. I don't care what gossip rags, and Hollywood present as a physical ideal. In my home, and in my life, I choose my physical ideal. I don't care for the extra layer of blubber that has popped up around my middle, seemingly out of nowhere. It has nothing to do with media or that woman with three kids and washboard abs. It is MY choice to decide to do things that will make me happy. Part of that is being content with what I see in the mirror.

So yes. I will go get my Botox in a few days. And yes, I will go work out. And yes, I will try to make healthier choices and forego some of the massive amounts of Halloween candy that is residing in my pantry. Don't judge me and I won't judge you for having the extra Snickers. Fair?