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I’ve never been the skinny type. For vast chunks of my adolescent years, I lamented this fact but I’m over it now.  Back then, though, I remember sitting next to my skinny friends, gazing down upon our respective thighs pressed flat against the concrete steps of our high school.  I remember vividly that mine weren’t nearly as long and/or lean as theirs were.  Back then, this meant something disproportionate to me.  Now I just comfort myself with the certain knowledge that I wasn’t built to brag of thighs like those.  Mine are short and sometimes mind-numbingly white, but on a good day, they see me through 12 or 15 or even 21 kilometers of joyful running.

I used to wonder what was wrong with me since I’d gaze about me and see beautiful, slim women as far as the eye could see. I’m not what you would dub a heavy person, but when you look at me for a concentrated moment, you’re struck by the round bits. I have lots of round. And frankly, I’m ok with it now. This is just me. I try to do the best I can with what I have, but even my best doesn’t conjure up Uma Thurman to mind and over the years, I’ve come to realize that that’s ok.

I’ve come to the place where I believe it’s all about balance.  A large part of the pleasure I get from life is being able to enjoy food that tastes delicious.  I’m simply not prepared to forego that part of life in order to have really slim thighs.  I content myself with eating the yum, trying not to go crazy in the process and pursuing health and fitness in a manner that still feels like fun to me.  I know that if it feels fun, I’ll do it over the long haul and that my perhaps-veering-a-little-toward squat thighs will only benefit.

And speaking of cake, I just made this baby for Lucy’s 10th birthday.  It’s Red Velvet Peppermint and was pretty much to die for.  Do you see what a lost cause I am?

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