I eat, therefore, I'm ... a little chubby

I weigh about 140, and for someone who's almost 5'4', that's not bad. My BMI is the high end of normal, but I'm not overweight. So, I'm not really bitching too much. But damn do I carry my weight ugly!

It looks as if I've got a pouch full of baby marsupials grafted onto my abdomen. Blech. Unattractive. (Not baby marsupials - well, not once they've got hair, anyway. It was the pouch I was blech-ing.) And, frankly? I've got a big butt. And broad, baby-birthin' hips to start with, which the fat ass nicely accentuates.

Why do I bring this all up anyway? Because I used the stairstepper this morning and now my thighs are killing me. Why was I using the evil, thigh-torturing stairstepper? Because I had the sudden realization that in a month, I will be on the beach, and I'd like to be able to fit into the cute pair of little hot pink shorts (to match my awfully cute little hot pink suitcase) I bought at the end of last summer specifically to wear to the beach this year, and I can't.

Not by much, mind you, but enough. I can get them on, and even close them, providing I don't breathe too deeply or mind the rolls of chub that have been shoved up and out in a truly attractive manner.

So. The stairstepper. And the resolution to drink less wine and get off my ass for a walk a few days a week at work. I'm not asking to lose much. Just a smidge. A little bit. Just so I can breathe in the shorts, even. I can always wear a t-shirt or something to hide the chub rolls.

So, with little hot pink shorts as my battle cry, I will now set off on my quest.