Throughout my life, I’ve been labeled in various ways (often in the comment sections of my articles), but “petite” has never been one of them. My body is anything but small; my weight often falls above what those BMI charts suggest. I possess a classic pear shape, and even the slightest movement can cause my arms to jiggle (I do shake salt vigorously, after all). When I sit down, I’m reminded of my body’s rolls, and I even have a little “flap” that I have to tuck into my jeans.
You might think this is a typical scenario for someone who leads a sedentary lifestyle, perhaps indulging in nightly ice cream. However, that couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m a fitness instructor at two gyms, and on non-teaching days, I dedicate at least 30 minutes to working out at home. If I skip a day or two without exercise, I begin to feel sluggish.
I’ve even integrated movement into my writing routine. With the Microsoft Word app, I can draft articles while walking around my house, helping me rack up over 5,000 extra steps daily. On average, I hit 15,000 to 20,000 steps each day, equivalent to roughly 7 to 10 miles of walking. My blood pressure is commendably low, and my resting heart rate resembles that of an athlete. I strive to maintain a diet consisting of quality nutrients at least 80% of the time to fuel my active lifestyle.
From a physiological and metabolic standpoint, I embody good health. Yet, my thighs still resemble cottage cheese encased in skin. I carry additional weight, particularly in my lower body, and it seems that this is a permanent feature of my physique. Surprisingly, I’ve come to terms with it.
My journey to health wasn’t always smooth. There was a time when my weight peaked at nearly 300 pounds after the birth of my third child. At that point, my activity was limited to chasing after my kids, and I felt miserable both physically and emotionally. The thought of making a change seemed daunting, like climbing an insurmountable mountain.
Everything changed one day when my son accidentally recorded a video of me rummaging through the fridge, my midsection spilling over a too-small tank top. That moment was a wake-up call. Over two years, I shed more than 100 pounds and discovered a newfound love for physical activity.
That was seven years ago, and I have been consistently working out and making healthier food choices ever since. Despite my significant weight loss, I still wouldn’t be described as “thin.” Even during my fourth pregnancy, when I was at the height of my fitness career—teaching eight hours a week throughout the first trimester and six hours right up until the ninth month—I still gained 50 pounds. My doctor reassured me that both my baby and I were healthy. “Some people,” he explained, “naturally carry more weight than others.” I fall into that category.
I have learned to embrace my body as it is, appreciating its strengths and capabilities. There are days when I feel bloated, and nothing seems to fit right. However, overall, I feel comfortable in my skin—much to my husband’s approval, who often compliments me with a cheeky, “nice pants.” It’s crucial to challenge the notion that fitness must equate to a slim figure. One can be fit without being slender; I am living proof.
I take pride in what my body can achieve. I am fit and strong, even if I’m missing those elusive Jillian Michaels abs and Michelle Obama arms. They’re likely just hidden beneath a layer of extra fluff.
If you’re curious about pregnancy and home insemination, consider checking out this excellent resource on IUI. For those exploring self-insemination options, I highly recommend visiting sites like Make a Mom, which provide valuable insights. For broader information, Intracervical Insemination offers an engaging read.
In conclusion, I’ve learned that health isn’t solely defined by weight or size. It’s about how we care for ourselves, both physically and mentally. Embracing our unique bodies and understanding their capabilities is what truly matters.