I’m not asking for the impossible. I’d just like to have a healthy body. That’s all.
Just a body that doesn’t freak out if I enjoy a pint of salted-caramel ice cream after a sensible meal, or break out in hives if I indulge in a king-size bag of M&M’s after a workout. A healthy body that doesn’t get a splitting headache only sometimes when I drink boxed red wine, so who knows when it’s safe to ever have any red wine. If that means I have to eat broccoli, fine. I’m not unreasonable.
All I want is a healthy body that’s toned. I’m not asking to be a Gisele Bündchen or an Angela Bassett. Just in shape enough that when I break into a light jog to keep up with my husband’s walking pace I don’t feel immediate mortification at the sensation of my belly rippling through time and space. Toned in such a way that the department store’s fun-house-mirror-and-fluorescent-lighting combo doesn’t send me into a butt-dimple spiral. Toned enough that getting out of a sweaty sports bra is like easing a delicious popsicle out of its plastic sleeve and not like escaping a medieval limb-stretching torture rack. Though a body sort of has to be perfectly toned to be considered “toned,” right? It’s kind of like being pregnant—you can’t be half-toned. So, yeah, I’ll just take one of those.
