I let out a little gasp when I got on the scale this morning.
My body is one built for a little punishment, lots of rough-and-tumble activity. Okay, fine, I am built like a small tank. It's a natural tendency enhanced by years of athletics. But... I am no longer in the pool for five hours a day, no longer at the gym for another two, and no longer at crew practice at five-thirty in the morning.
But I still eat like I am.
So, like a good girl, as I type this, I am signing up for Weight Watchers. I clearly need to get a grip.
It's just hard. I know that even when I am back to a more normal weight, I will look the same as I do now. Really. If you saw me, you would never believe what I weigh. I just hide it very well.
Speaking of which, how do I know what a normal weight is? Charts tell me that I should be around 125-130. That, my dear people, is completely unrealistic. That last time I was 125 was when I was in grade school. That last time I was 130, I was a sophomore in college, rowing once a day, in the pool twice a day, and in the gym every other day. Oh, and I wasn't eating much.
This is new ground for me, I guess.
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