I'm size 16, going on 17

Allow me to indulge my vanity for a moment. This is me as a teenager, in one of my favorite spots:

Positively gawky.  Ya know what my nickname was in my house was growing up? String bean. In the interest of being thorough: In college, my two nicknames were "Shrew" (well, my name is Kate, after all) and "Butterball" since--some argued--when I laugh hard, I sound like a turkey.

Gratuitous pic of turkey follows:




Ahhh!  That photo is ginormous!  Someone please teach me how to drive this thing.... eeeek!  Whatev.  Totally meant that.  It goes with my "big" theme today...

At any rate... my point?  Oh yes, that. I'm not meant to be quite this ponderous.  Going all puffer fish annoys me greatly.  My pride is pleased I can at least in part blame steroids: you see, my body found it most fitting to observe the demise of my pregnant with an arthritis flare up. (Nope, not bitter, why do you ask?  I love my mortal coil. what did St. Francis call it? "Sister Donkey?" heh heh heh..hee haw.)  But I digress.

So anyway, prednisone both causes weight gain and increases one's appetite.  In the interest of honestly...  Well, allow me to put it in song:

I'm size 16, going on 17.

I know I should not eat
Pizza and ice cream, chocolate and candies;
Bacon is not white meat...

Totally unprepared am I
To face my shorts sized 10;
Timid and shy and scared am I
Of what will happen then...

I need someone thinner and meaner
Yelling me what to do...
Step aerobics, Yogalates
YMCA must do!

I'm not hungry, I'm really not hungry...

Nope, I'm really not.

I'm not gonna eat, I'm just gonna sleep

I... Oh darn, hand me that Oreo...  Just five, please, really.

My accepted mission: plan to go daily to the Y, and this end up there at least once a week. Just made it two days in a row, and about to leave for the third.  Whew! :)

It's not a perfect experience...  20% of every exercise class is composed of machine-engineered perfect women placed there partly to inspire you while they show off their perfect balance, strength, tone and flexibility... but mostly it's to provide a near occasion of despair.  Also, despite a room full of over-exerted bodies, instructors can smell my insecurities and make huge efforts to be helpful.
In Zumba class, they jog over hooting during a dance routine so they can make sure I'm applying enough dynamic hip action.  The eyes of several toned persons follow me.  When using exercise balls, teachers thoughtfully place their mat beside mine (way in the back) thus attracting the attention of all the robot women looking for their next move. In yoga, they demonstrate both what is supposed to be done as well as the "beginner's modification," with a peacefully pointed look in my direction. Thus, an upside down pretzel executed perfectly by the rest of the class becomes me sitting cross legged looking extra dumb, if--somehow--enlightened.

Will let you know how this goes...  Meanwhile, I'm keeping in mind that at least the pounds I've gained because of kids are worth it... :)  The "Vanity of vanity's" passage would somehow fit here, eh? lol...  Enjoy the sunshine!  I think, maybe, it's actually spring! :D