Ph(at) girl running

So there it is... phat, fat, chubby girl running. There's my secret; I told you it would get ugly. Last night will forever go down in history as day one. Last night I began what will hopefully become a daily (shooting for 6 out of 7 days) regimen where I put on my tightest sports bra, my most gut sucking in workout clothes and my running shoes and run my bouncing bum around what my husband and I call the "big loop" and not just up and down our dead end street. I am running to prove to myself that I can. I am running for my daughter, my sisters, (who both run regularly), for my parents, for my life. I am running for my life. I am running because if I don't, my life may not last as long as I had originally planned. I am overweight. I am obese. Other than the peak of my pregnancy, I am at my heaviest. My weight played a large role in my daughter being born emergency cesarean at 31 weeks and with God as my witness, I will NEVER let that happen again. I want to have another baby. I want my daughter to have a sibling. I want my husband to say, "these are my children." These are my "children". My child will be fine "siblingless". She won't know any different. But she won't be fine "motherless". She just won't. My husband won't. My parents won't. My sisters and my brother-in-law and my nephews and my niece won't. No one will just be fine and move on if my weight gets so out of control that it continues to cause health problems and I eventually prematurely kick the bucket. It is no longer an option. So... I run. I run for my daughter, I run for my husband, I run for my parents and my sisters and my brother and my niece and nephews...I run for my life. Stay tuned. I told you it would get ugly!