Training Day: 21
Miles: 3.1 (strides)
Shoes: Altra Paradigm 5
Weather: High 30s
How It Felt: Pretty good, but not as great as last week.
Commentary: “I’m a fatty” is something I say frequently. Those around me could be thinking I’m seeking validation about my physique because someone usually says, “You’re not fat!” And they’re right because fatty and fat are two completely different things.
When I say, “I’m a fatty,” it either means I’m eating like a fat kid or I’m fattier than I need to be. These days, both are true.
My clothes are tighter. That flat stomach I had when working with a personal trainer is a thing of the past. My boobs barely fit in my bra. My shirts are no longer loose fit.
For the most part, I don’t care that I have some extra fluff. I still think I look good, and my clothes fit well enough. But my boobs getting bigger is what really gets me. Boobs are stupid, especially since I’ll never give birth, and my husband is more of a butt guy anyway.
When my boobs are smaller, meaning I’m less fluffy, they never hurt. Not around my period, not when something hits them, not even when I punch them to prove to others they don’t hurt. Weird thing to do, I know. Now that I’m fluffy, they fucking hurt, and I fucking hate it.
Now I’m motivated to eat better, get back to strength training on a regular basis, and lose some of this fluff.
Endlessly seeking adventure.