I love how your belly shakes when you laugh

I enter the room and everyone gasps in awe because I look so killer. I am wearing red heels and a v-neck something that shows off my decolletage. I walk around smiling and talking. I know everyone in the room but cannot seem to recall any one conversation. Everyone's financial achievements is palpable - the diamonds, the clothing, the recent vacation tans. At least I am perceived thin. I achieved that. I finally look good. I walk over to a mirror to check my lipstick and then I am in a store trying to find food for the kids to eat. All I come across are tomato sandwiches (which I know the kids will never touch.) I ask for something else and all the lights turn off.  I leave the store with no food for the kids.

I wake up and realize that THIS was my morning to sleep in an now it is 8:28am. If I go back to sleep I will have another weird dream.

All day when it comes to food I think DO THE RIGHT THING. Drink water, drink tea, stay away from carbs from grain, no extra sugar, more vegetables, no chips, only drink 1 Sprinte/7Up/Ginger Ale. It is EXHAUSTING.

I almost-ish have the food thing down. I have to find a way to make myself move more. And I need to get it going before it gets too hot.

I spoke to a friend of mine from college. She has always been inspiring because she keeps herself is such killer shape. I remember her in college and she always felt better taking a run and getting out of her head for awhile. Now she is a working mom of two with a myriad of things to contend with on a daily basis. Her stress is at an all-time high right now and in order to heal she has to go back to the basics.

Sleeping
Eating well
Exercise

I find myself thinking about what makes me different from these friends of mine? The ones that love to run. The thought of sweating to me sounds awful. Am I alone on that one really?

Why can they put down the cheese popcorn and I cannot? What drive do they have within them that says I would rather have a 26 inch waist then a chicken cutlet sandwich once a week?

Last night my son was telling me a story and we kept laughing together. Afterwards he said,

"I love how your belly shakes when you laugh." 

I wish my belly didn't shake. I was gutted again. I recovered quickly because I didn't want him to think that he had made me sad. I cannot tell him that. I have learned that to I have to love my body with all its curves and extra curves, and bumps, and scars in a way that shows both my children that they must love themselves. Always. Over anyone else. Over EVERYTHING else.

And with my honest beret on I have to say that when my daughter tells me that my butt it is cute (and that is the least cute thing about me aside from my feet,) I have to agree with her.

They will learn through my example that they are both smart, funny, creative, artistic, kind, and beautiful because I tell them that they are everyday.