You know what else I hate?

If your gut response was "everything," well, at least I'm not alone in my dark, dark mood. I was thinking exercise though. I decided to add another set to my exercises today. Hurts. But I'm out of shape and should do something (to be honest, I'm not sure exactly why, but the peer pressure is getting to me).

Yesterday Husband and I went to the zoo, because we could. The day before, I scrubbed the floor ala Cinderella. I think both count as exercise. Today was a workout day--strength training stuff you can do at home while watching reruns of Star Trek: Voyager. Just hate it (not Voyager).

The one time I had a gym membership, I to wanted to hit my trainer, and not in a good you're-making-me-push-my-limits way, but in a bad fuck-you-sexist-bastard-making-clandestine-comments-about-my-weight way. I'm sure he was a nice enough guy, but he tried to motivate me by talking about how great it will be to buy a whole new wardrobe. (Only if Narnia's in the back of it.) I don't like clothes shopping that much either. I'm not that kind of girl.

Anyway, bad mood usually follows exercise because it gets me to thinking about my weight, which isn't a big deal unless I'm thinking about it.

When I was 12, I weighed 135. Do you know how I remember this? After school, while waiting on a bus, a boy asked me and my friends how much we weighed. I was not ashamed of my weight and thought I looked pretty good. I wore size 8 or 10 jeans (depended on the brand) and was a 36C. You might could say I was hot, as I was one of the first girls to develop curves (I also have a report card that says my clothes were too mature for my age). Not particularly beautiful, but my biggest body concern was that boys didn't make eye contact. I hadn't really started trying to change the way I looked. So I said, confidently 135. The boy responded, "you don't look that fat." Bye, bye confidence.

135 lbs. is what I "should" weigh today according to the BMI mess (which is utter nonsense and seriously flawed, and I'm not just saying that because on that scale a 12-year-old weighing 135 is overweight. The history of its development is quite interesting). My doctor wants me to lose 30 lbs. before I get old (something about degrading bone over time and osteoporosis; although, my only predisposition for osteoporosis is my race. I have no personal reasons to worry about it). Basically, as long as I drop the 30 lbs. in the next decade, I think she'll be happy (not that I'll be old then, but it's hard to think more than 10 years out). I weighed 145 on the day I got married, when I was 19. I went up to 160 lbs. at 16. Today, I weigh 180.

BMI tells me I'm obese. BMI is wrong, of course, and I am incredibly healthy. Except for my cholesterol, all of my test results are"perfect," and my high cholesterol is "genetic" since it's the same as my sister 's and mom's and I'm the only vegetarian of the three of us. My doc expects me to never need any meds for my cholesterol as it has been within this range since I was a teenager (it's stable).

So basically, I'm healthy and don't really enjoy exercise or organized sports, so every time I exercise, I think about being fat. And that isn't something I usually worry about because I like who I am and am mostly satisfied with the way I look.

I want to be 11 again. I remember that boy's name. It's not his fault though. Stupid society.

This isn't really what I had in mind when I started writing this post, but I already deleted two posts this week when I got to the posting stage, so this one stays.