Maria Kang has caused another mommy controversy on the internet these past few weeks (see here). She posted a picture of herself in tight workout gear with her three kids next to her. The caption reads, “What’s Your Excuse?!” People say it’s fat shaming, judgy, etc. Also, she’s a bad mom for ignoring her kids to get fit. I say patooey on the whole thing. I just read this from Baby Sideburns (The New Rules of Mommyhood) and I completely agree. 100%. Did you read them both? If so, do that, then COME BACK. Don’t get sidelined by Kim K’s engagement ring or that Joss & Main ad.
I say let each mom be each mom. If Maria Kang can work out and be gorgeous and a good mom, rock on with her bad self. You can’t call her a bad mom. She’s just doing what’s right for her, and you have no idea whether she’s a bad mom or not. You have very limited information. This tends to piss me off (see here).
BUT, in fun, I thought I’d offer my excuses for Why Not?
- Traveling husband/dad
- Full time job including travel time/daycare drop-off
- 2 very fast moving hours a night with my kids (must include feeding, bathing, homework)
- I would rather read. Currently the Black Dagger Brotherhood. Seriously, I CANNOT PUT THEM DOWN. Vampires + porn + 12 books 500+ pages each = How’s a 7:00 bedtime sound kids??
- I can’t read on the treadmill, it makes me nauseous.
- I really like to eat. I could write a love letter to food that would be more erotic than one to my husband. Seriously, if above mentioned vampires ate food the entire 500 pages, I’d still be totally turned on.
- If I do get the rare opportunity to use our local YMCA membership, I am totally intimidated by gym people and the equipment, so I wuss out and get on the treadmill for a half hour, which I could totally do at home. And at home, I could wear just a sports bar and shorts, and not have to worry about various exposed jiggly parts or the fact my vagina is slowing trying to consume my shorts. (Shut it! You know it happens to you too!). Plus there’s the ick factor of hopping on a machine after sweaty, hairy guy vacates it without wiping it down.
- Working out makes me sweat. I hate being hot and sweaty. I don’t have enough underwear to make this comfortable.
- Working out at home is all the way DOWNSTAIRS.
- I have trouble balancing my Kindle on the equipment to watch TV. Music is nice, but I need some visual eye candy. Maybe I could hire some firemen to dance in front of me whilst I work out. Nope, scratch that, see above workout gear.
- My available work out times are 4:30 to 5:30 a.m. or 9:00 to 10:00 p.m. Those are definitely my optimum energy hours. I think of all the times I’ve planned to get up and exercise in the morning, I think I’ve done it maybe twice in my whole life. The road to hell is paved with good intentions…and donuts.
- I hate healthy food. Every day, I bring an apple to work. Each day, I add said apple to my ever growing bushel in my food drawer. Eventually I will make a pie with them.
- I can’t pronounce edamame or quinoa, therefore, can’t buy them for fear the cashier will want to talk about them, hence exposing my ignorance.
- I hate healthy food. Seriously. Hate it. My ideal “healthy” snack is a spoonful of Extra Crunchy Peanut Butter.
- I love pop. I hate water. Just saying it makes me happy (POP, POP, POPPEDTY POP POP). Water makes me sad and bored, and doesn’t wash down that candy bar aftertaste like a pop can. God, I can hear me becoming diabetic.
- Diets make me instantly hungry. Just thinking about a diet makes me hungry. Like, right now. Do I have any cheesesticks in the fridge? Is it too late for nachos?
- My happy pills make me tired and slow my metabolism.
- My allergy pills make me tired and you know, probably slow my metabolism too.
- My kids make me tired. Seriously, ever spend an hour yelling to get them into bed, brush teeth, poop, pee, break up fights, break up giggle fests, freak out over homework not done, get water for parched daughter, tell son why he cannot have water, argue about how long he can read, assure daughter there are no monsters in the house or room, spray monster repellent into room just in case, reassure daughter all is OK after her nightmare (which she hasn’t had yet, because she has yet to close her eyes), tuck them in, re-tuck them in after they get up to rearrange their stuffed animals, trim a “nail” (read hangnail that is obviously life-threatening), put band-aid on non-existent boo boo, hear about friend’s vacation, talk about our vacation, and so on….? Yeah, by the time they have finally given up the fight for the night, all I want to do is sit and stare at the wall. Puttin on exercise gear (see hot description above), tennis shoes (apparently this is a Midwesterners’ term, so OK rest of America “shoes”), get water, desired electronic device for entertainment and heading downstairs does not sound appealing. A glass of wine, a good book and/or catching up on New Girl and Vampire Diaries does however.
I want to be one of those women. Like Maria Kang. I want to LOVE exercise. I want to LOVE healthy eating. I go in cycles. My husband usually times them. I get on the wagon, detox for a week (read: miserable, hungry, constant internal yelling at self), slowly start feeling awesome, crave working out, then BAM Coldstone happens or sick happens or tired happens and I am off the wagon on a binge most heroin addicts would say, Calm down lady, why don’t we ease up a little eh? (Because my heroin addicts are Canadian.)
So, those are my excuses. They are lame I know. I am slowly killing myself I know. It’s a vicious cycle. I feel like I am a hamster stuck on a spinning wheel. Only my spinning wheel consists of a couch, Kindle, Hulu and a snuggie.