Don't Look Now, I Have Turned Touchy Feely

So this weekend I get my wish: a REAL workout. I have issues with treading on a treadmill or ellipting on an elliptical or barely working up a sweat when I work out. This is not to say that I am in shape, I just like to FEEL like I am working out when I work out. So the other half of Team Beer Pike (that is to say the Pikes) bought P90X, and promptly gave it to my hub for his birthday. Now if that ain't a kick in the taint I don't know what is....KIDDING. We all decided that it was time to not go gently into that dark night simultaneously, and if you read my blog, you know that I want to be HOT (or at least hottER), then Renee bought the shit, and before I could give her our half, it was a birthday gift....million thanks, by the way, we love you! So tonight marks my last night of having a guilt free drink for a week(I am officially giving it up, aside from Friday nights) tomorrow is my shopping for workout clothes, a chin up bar, new dumbbells, as well as the dreaded FIT TEST which I am sure will prove that I should just give up and lie down in my grave. Then it starts on Sunday.......I am excited and nervous. Nervous because I am doubting my own fortitude and / or stick-to-itiveness. Excited because I want to be that mom where people say "HOLY SHIT you have four kids????" not "You look good, I mean, you've had four kids". It may not seem like a big distinction, but it is to me. I have to take measurements (ugh) and PICTURES (double ugh) but I don't have to weigh myself, which is good. I am fundamentally against scales outside of the deli department. I weigh what I weigh. I know when I am heavy, and I know what weight suits me, and it has NOTHING to do with height weight ratio charts or body mass indexes. People who knew me for the brief period wherein I weighed what the charts would have me weigh were worried and tried to hook me up to a cheeseburger IV. I'm not saying those charts are wrong for everyone, they are just wrong for me. I owned a scale once, and when it had a nice warm coat of dust, I threw it away. Weighing yourself is for accurate medication dosage, and that number should play no part in your self image. Easy to say coming from someone described recently by her oldest friend as having this attitude "I'm Patty. Look how hot I am." I cannot argue with her, because she is true. As I am barfing out this blog entry I am thinking, "Why am I saying these things?" The answer is because beautiful is how YOU feel about it. Not what someone else thinks. This is backed up by the unwritten blog entry "How my Husband Ruins My Efforts at Losing Weight". I stand in front of the mirror, disgusted at myself, he thinks that is a mating signal. I pinch the fat roll at my side, he sidles up to me and purrs. It has nothing to do with anything except for one simple fact: In his mind I am, and will forever be, 27. Hairstyles and colors will come and go, wrinkles multiply, breasts head south....in his mind, I am at my peak of awesomeness. I only know this because that is how I think of him...the black and white photo I took of him when we lived in the apartment on Hampshire Street, wearing a black tee shirt with his arms over his head leaning into a doorway. Full head of jet black hair (OK, as full a head as James Beer has ever had) no wrinkles, no stress induced white peppering his head, children still in the future...head filled with going to the bar with his hot new wife and then taking her to bed that night. We all need to remember this: We may have a different picture of ourselves in our head that our physical selves may or may not match, but the people who love us have a different picture too. One that reminds them why they fell in love with us, that is etched on their hearts. Man, I need to stop...that turned all squishy really fast. Have a great weekend!