In addition to the last post, it reminded me of an old ad from Sephora.

It was a colorful ink blot.

It said something along the lines of

"Have you ever wondered what other people see? Does it
matter? Beauty is how you see it."

And I saw that when I was around 13? and I never forgot it.  I'm
pretty sure I have a copy of it saved in my basement still. If I find it,
you know I'm posting it.

It's not about sacrifice, it's about balance...

Almost the same day I started posting in this blog again.
I passed by a mirror at work and wondered if it was my stomach, or the way my
 shirt was hanging.  I lifted my shirt up, and I did not blow my belly out or try 
to suck it in - I just took the picture of the way my body was used to being.

I was sad.

I looked 3 months pregnant.
When did that happen?

Not that being pregnant was the worst thing.

I'm 27 now, I've had two kids.
It doesn't take much for me to start slipping out of shape.
I'm not 16 anymore.
I'm not saying 27 is old, but it is when you start to realize your body
won't always put up with how you're treating it.

So I started working out again.
Dancing, hula hooping, stretching, being silly.
If it isn't fun, I won't do it - and I know it.

I still enjoy guilty pleasures, like... milkshakes.

I still take time to stop and reflect on how beautiful my children are.
She was sick and running a fever at the time, and sleeping so peacefully.
She's still sick, today.
That puts a hold on any workout routines I may have gotten in the rhythm of.
I'm okay with that... because look at her.

Look at him...

If they are part of the reason I had to work 
a little harder to look like this again...
I'm happy to.

(Yes, OMG, it's a bra... don't ever visit the beach, you can't believe what you'll see there... Now that we've moved past this 4th grade moment...)

Yes, I wear my husband's pajama pants and bra to workout.
I start out with a shirt on..
but if you're really working out - that gets way too hot.

And I take these pictures, and I'm proud of them because they make me see
 my progress. I can't help but see it.  At the same time I'm human, and I'm my
 own worst critic.  For every picture you see of me, and it may or may not look
 "hot" or "sexy" or "fit" or "toned" to you.  It doesn't really matter what you see.
 Everyone looks at the world through their own eyes.  Through my eyes, I will 
always know where every stretch mark is, and where every scar is...  It has
 taken me until this point in my life to be okay with that.  It used to be 
something I was upset with, and wanted to change about myself.  Truth be told,
 if I had a magic option to change it - I still would in a second.  I'm not going to
 pretend I've gotten to a point in my life where I ENJOY them.  I have gotten to
 a point where I have accepted them, and what they stand for.  If I had to do it
 all over again, to get my beautiful children? I'd do it in a second.  I'd give 
anything for them.  A few scars?  Hardly worth focusing on. 

Have a great day! Stay moving. Always.

Life goes by too fast.  Don't miss it...