Resolution

So, many of you who know me and have seen me since having the twins (in person or via photos) have probably noticed the additional chin, fat thigh chub-rub, sexy cankles, or a combination there of. Perhaps you've had the hankering to sing "fat girl in a little coat" in my presence. I know I have. About you. No, I'm kidding. Seriously though, I'm fat.
I have gone from a size 5 to an 11. An 11, kids. Seriously. It makes me want to travel back to my Sr. year in high school and bitch slap the taste out of my mouth for ever complaining about how "fat" I was. Dumb teenagers.
As much as I'd like to starve the unsexiness out of me, I'm breastfeeding and that means I actually have to eat. Just to make milk though. That's right...food is not just for the benefit of survival anymore. I am, however, trying to eat healthier (i.e. things with little to no taste). Making the task even tougher is the absence of my thyroid. What kind of cruel joke was that? Let's take the one major part of the body that controls my metabolism so that it virtually doesn't even exist any more.
Anywho, now that we're settled and not so transient, I get to finally start working on myself. After the holidays of course. You know it's stupid to make that kind of commitment to go into effect before New Year's.