I don’t mean the XY XX genetic choices – but the why for me.
The very thing I fear – the perpetual motion – is what I need in my life.
I’m a sit on my ass kind of girl. In front of the tv, with some knitting, with a laptop, with some food, kind of girl.
I was picked last for teams in gym, I got my glasses broken constantly in contact sports, I could never ride my bike up the hill, I once tripped on a painted line in gym and sprained my ankle, my dad sponsored the summer softball team I was on – and I still once heard the coach say while I was going up to bat, “Here comes the girl who can’t hit.”
I have this weight issue. (However, today is 162, opa!) I don’t want to move my bod. It feels strange to me. The only thing I’ve ever trusted my body to do was childbirth.
But I have this boy.
This boy who doesn’t want to be still. This bright little boy who wants to see things and touch things and lick things – he’s not content sitting and listening to me describe it – he’s an up close and personal kind of guy.
This boy smiles when I put him on my shins and do crunches. This boy laughs when I bring my shoulders to him and exhale raspberries at him while I crunch. This boy loves when I pull him up and down, straining my triceps and shoulders in a good way. This boy loves being bounced up and down in the squats and lunges that I hate hate HATE to do. This boy likes to take the ride on my stomach as I do the bridge from yoga class. This boy is a mover and a shaker.
He’ll teach me to be active. He’ll teach me to live in my body rather than surfing online to find a picture of what I’d rather sit and envy. He’ll teach me to laugh while I get strong.
I just have to let him teach me. And damn that’s hard.