Thursday, March 16, 2017

no Michelle Obama arms here - but a little of her moxie

I'm a few years from my 50th birthday, but I can see and feel my body aging. Yesterday morning I was shocked to see the fat in my forearms. I have always wished to have Michelle Obama arms, though I’ve never worked for them. I walk (sometimes I’m up to a jog) on the treadmill 3 - 5 times a week unless I get to walk outside. I even own a few light hand weights and have been known to do some calisthenics. But, I am not an athlete and often choose other ways to spend my time than exercise.
Still, those forearms kind of took me by surprise. And I won’t lie, I started immediately to beat myself up about them.
But part of my goal this year, still a few away from 50, is to take action. I can’t travel back in time and not eat the Moosetracks frozen yogurt with chocolate jimmies, nor would I likely make that choice should Mr. Peabody’s Way-Back Machine become available to me. Heck, keeping on this trend of honesty, I’ll likely have a cup of Moosetacks this weekend.
My one little word isn’t about completely changing who I am or drastically altering my habits. Action for me is thinking about what I do each day and want to do each day and am hesitant or afraid to do each day and take an action regarding it. While I would like better looking arms, when I stop to really reflect on it what I really want is strength. My flabby arms are not very strong and I want to be able tote around grandchildren one day, to be able to haul my bags through the airport when my husband and I tour Europe for out 50th anniversary.

I wonder if I can focus on strength without chastising myself for all my past bad choices.
I wonder if my focus on strength can help guide me to better choices in food and activity.
I wonder if I can really accept that, while I might gain strength I probably won’t lose all the flab.
I wonder if I can ever completely see myself the way I think my dear husband does.

I was tired today, so walked at a slow pace on the treadmill. I stopped after only 20 minutes because I wanted to make sure I could get some supper on the table in time for the family to eat together before we each got to evening activities. But since stepping off that treadmill I have taken action to do things in line with the life I want to live. I read for my book club, I planned mini-lessons for my struggling students, I wrote to hone my skills. 
My arms are still flabby, but my resolve is firm.

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