The Mac Dad will make ya jump, jump

Or not.

I haven’t written in forever and a day. We’ve been busy with a couple of big things.

1. We went to New Orleans for a family vacation. Which was super fun, but resulted in five days of eating like this.

Not the place to hang out when you are trying to eat healthy and lose weight. But I did walk a ton. So that’s something… right?

2.We have been madly debating buying this land.

It’s 1.5 acres southwest of town. Out of town. Away from breakfast tacos, public swimming pools, libraries, and our awesome friends on the East Side. What the fuck are we thinking?

It’s been a lot of ups and downs–and basically just majorly stressful. It’s a big decision and a big financial commitment.

But I guess we are officially moving forward. And will eventually get to design our own home. Which will be awesome–yet again with the stressful.

So this past weekend things were finally calming down. I took the kiddo to the trampoline park for some rain-free fun. We’ve gone a few times before and it always surprises me how easy it is on my body. You’d think the bouncing would be jolting and hard on the joints. But as long as I wear the right bra and pin those puppies down, it’s all good.

This time, not so much.

This time, my ankles/achilles were like FUCK YOU. I kept stopping to stretch, but nothing helped.

Finally at the end, I moved to a different trampoline and it had way better resistance or something and didn’t bother my legs at all. I’m no trampoline technician, but I’m going to guess I was partially struggling on the first one because the springs needed to be tightened or something.

And because of my weight.

Which, oh yeah. There was some new signage at our jump park.

And it’s funny because 1) it took me a while to notice it and 2) my first reaction upon reading it was like “Duh. Makes sense.”

Until I quickly realized I WEIGH MORE THAN THAT. My 225 makes me illegit to jump.

And then the shame. Rolling waves of shame.

And wondering if I was breaking the trampoline with my fat ass (saggy springs, remember?) and if I should jump again, or somehow trick my clingy 3 year old into jumping without me.

Right.

He’s totally great about playing by himself without me participating.

Ha.

I just wanted to leave. Run away and cry in the car.

Which I didn’t. I just got really short-tempered with my child. Cuz that’s fair.

I did do a little jumping, but basically felt really self-conscious and fat the whole time. The only thing that made me feel better is all the times we’d come before and that sign WASN’T hanging.

So back to this healthy at every weight thing.

Great for you if you can dance or do Ironmans at a heavier than average weight. I still wonder what you are doing to your knees, but whatever.

And I have tried to embrace not focusing on weight, but on healthy habits.

But I like to fucking jump around with my kid. And I can’t fucking legit do that now. Or at least not comfortably–because what my self-esteem doesn’t need is breaking a fucking trampoline in half.

I actually really need to acknowledge the weight. I mean, I acknowledge I’m overweight, but my goals actually need to specifically include losing weight. I think they always have in the back of my mind, but I was trying to be more “healthy” in my mentality. Which I still think is true. I don’t want to go on some crash diet. I want to build healthy habits. But damn, those habits have to actually lead to losing some weight.

I want to jump.

I want to be able to chase my kid. Because that is one of his favorite things to do. Anywhere, but especially at the trampoline park where we have these long slippery straightaways to run down.

And then we fall and my hair does this.

And then my kiddo cracks up and his laugh is worth dying for.

Or at least worth losing some weight.