How Do You Rock?

I could be focusing on any number of things at this moment in time.  I am choosing to productively channel my attention into the pieces of lard that have taken up residence on my hips.

I think some people call them saddlebags, and I suppose that's appropriate (because I certainly feel like a pack mule).  I call them an annoyance to all things cotton/denim.

Here's the sitch (Yes, I may have watched an episode or two of Kim Possible.  What of it?):  I am not a small girl.  Despite my rather hulking appearance, however, I enjoy looking cute.  Cute becomes next to impossible when I have to consider walking out of the house without bottoms.

Because no one wants to see that. 

This may sound really stupid, but I woke up to the idea that I'm not a completely unfortunate looking human being.  There's a really strong chance I'll never win a Miss Photogenic competition, nor will I ever model for Dolce and Gabbana (hell, I'd give $1000 to be able to fit into something they make off the rack).  Sometimes it's just difficult to strive for something more when I feel unfortunate-looking.

I think I've spent the last two years giving PCOS 100% of the responsibility for my weight when it's likely only 25% responsible.  (Thirty-five percent at the most.)  In all actuality, I'm probably 75% responsible for an issue I just haven't wanted to look in the face.

I know that my body doesn't process refined carbohydrates well.  I know I need to cut back on my sugar intake (even though I can promise you it's not super high now).  I know I need to get off my ass and do something more often than I do now.

I guess there's just been a little too much to handle in the last two years.  I bought into the farce that I deserved to eat what I wanted.  I believed I was being cheated because I wasn't privileged enough to eat what I wanted.  But if we live our lives based in comparison, everyone loses all the time.

I'm more privileged than a lot of people I know in a lot of ways.  I can count blessings from now until next Thursday without taking a breath.  Likely, many of you can, too.

I have so many loves.  My Favorite who is hilarious and supportive and the best man anyone could ever hope to have (I know you think you have the best man, but you're wrong.  Haha.  Kidding.  You're probably right.  But he wouldn't be the best man for me.  I nailed that one.)  And I may not have my own children, but I have a niece who thinks I put the sun in the sky (or a cake in the oven...more on that later) and a Tobie who thinks I'm so wonderful she refers to me as her best friend even though she's only 9.

Ya'll.  I'm blessed.  Beyond measure.  And it's time I started reminding myself that I need to appreciate that blessing by taking care of what I've been given.  Because nothing shows appreciation like taking what you've been given and multiplying it (Matt 25).

Unfortunately, those blessings are easy to forget.  We spent so much time trying to keep up with the Joneses that we forget the only person who can compete with Heidi Klum is Heidi Klum (and a team of make-up artists).  What I really want to know, so much more than what is wrong with you, is how do you rock?  What do you rock?  What are your blessings?

Now's not the time to be modest.