I weigh 195 lbs. I’m a little on the tall side, 5’8″ so I carry it well but Goddamn, 195 lbs. It takes serious, deliberate focus to not berate myself because I don’t look like I did 30 lbs ago. I have done the Zone way of eating, the no-carb eating method, which worked for six months, and everyone was telling me how great I looked. But I wanted to lose more, and then it slowly came back while I was eating the same. As for working out, I’ve done serious cardio 3-5 times a week, for six months, a year, with little results. What the actual fuck?!?
Now I want to do something different. I want to feel worthy, feel lovable, and sexy right here right now. Not when I lose some weight, not when I get my eyes done so I don’t have to wear glasses anymore, not when I’m fitting into those jeans that I’ve been keeping in my closet for the last 4 fucking years hoping I will get into them again. Right. Fucking. Now. Fat thighs and all. Cellulite on my arms (how the hell did that happen?!?!), lumpy ass, and all.
I know this sounds like some new-agey-bullshit, but it’s where I am now that I’m decades into middle age. I do want to feel and be stronger, have more energy and stamina, but without the goal of less belly fat. Let that shit go, Alexine. Logically I know the ownness is on each one of us to stand up and shake that shit off. And I know for a FACT that the majority of guys do NOT notice nearly as much as we do. Now, if I can just remember that instead of thinking, ‘If you could only see the real me under this layer of fat.’
Women complain about the ridiculous standards society has put for us, and they are just that. I can say in all honesty that a belly on a guy doesn’t even register to me. In fact, it feels safer. If a guy has a lean torso, I’m not interested. I’m not going to be rubbing my soft belly fat against his hard abs and wonder if he’s putting together a core workout for me. Oh hell no!
excerpt chapter 4: milfs & something wonderful