You know that commercial where that little blonde girl is looking into the camera telling you all the different parts of her body she once hated? “I hated my thighs, I hated my tummy, I really hated my butt.” It’s an advertisement for some diet pill – some pill that she swallowed, it helped her get skinny, and it leads you to believe she loved herself again.

The commercial doesn’t say outright that she loves herself now – it does say that she is happy she’s skinny, but I’m going to venture a guess that the pill did nothing for true self love. I’m sure there is a whole other list of things she hates about herself, but the commercial doesn’t delve any deeper.

I have the opposite problem. Theoretically I know that I am overweight. I know that I am wearing pants 2 sizes bigger than when I had my son six years ago (when I was probably wearing one size bigger than I wanted to), and I know that losing weight is no longer a matter of buying a case of Diet Pepsi and a bag of apples for a week, in order to look hot in whatever outfit I want to wear to the upcoming weekend’s party. I am older, my body has been through two pregnancies (and two c-sections), and if I’m not properly monitoring a healthy caloric intake and working out every day, the weight isn’t budging.

However.

However, I still feel like a perfect, curvy, hot size 12 on the inside. And that, my friends, has made it very difficult for me to have long-term success in the diet and exercise area. Because my husband gropes me and paws at me no matter what size I am. Because I can still shop in any store off the rack and end up with something pretty cute. Because I know how to dress for my shape. Because, even on yoga pants days, I put together cute ‘active’ wear. Because, my whole life I have felt loved and accepted, and though I have had moments of self doubt, I have never gotten stuck in a place where I felt bad about how I looked. Not for long.

I have plenty of neuroses, believe me. But my appearance is just not one of them. So, it makes it hard to make a long term change in my eating or exercise habits; I get going for a while, then on the days when I feel lazy and want to lie around or pig out, I don’t hold myself accountable. Then one lazy day turns into one lazy week, and before I know it it’s been a month since I’ve pushed play on a workout DVD.

But once it a while it happens. Once in a while, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, on a home movie, or in a picture that makes me do a double-take. Who is THAT? I say to myself. What have I done to myself?

And so the dance begins. I pick a new plan with huge goals. I decide how much I want to lose and how I’m going to do it. I jump in with both feet, and just when the endorphins are making me feel really good, I slack off again. I intend to have a ‘cheat meal’ which turns into a ‘cheat weekend.’ Or, I have a fantastic week but when I step on the scale the number hasn’t moved. Or, I fit into the dress I want to wear, so the next morning I sleep in instead of working out before everyone wakes up. And, slowly but surely I’m back where I started. Which isn’t an altogether bad place; it just isn’t a very fit place.

When choosing what to do for Lent, I reflected on the past year, remembering the times when I made silent promises to myself to take better care of my body. Like, standing at my dad’s hospital bed, hearing people theorize that it’s the years of working out that have given him the strength and endurance to win the fight for his life. Or learning that the cause of our dear friend’s death was due to heart disease when he was just 31 years old. So, this year, I promised to spend time each day taking care of the gift that God gave me – this body that can walk, run and jump if I would only require it to. I didn’t take measurements. I didn’t record a ‘before’ weight. I didn’t decide on a diet plan or a number of calories to eat every day. I am focused less on dieting, and more on just taking care of my body – and that is how I am talking about it with my kids. I simply decided to commit to exercise each day and hopefully to come to the end of the season with a new outlook on living a healthy lifestyle. If I can do that, the rest will come.

I met a great group of women on a message board. We are all using the same workout program at the same time, and we just sort of found each other on a thread and have really connected. Today, I am supposed to post ‘halfway’ pictures for the girls to see, and I can’t make myself do it. Because looking at those pictures brought me to that place where the good I feel on the inside isn’t matching up with the person in the picture. I’m at that place where the little voice inside my head is saying “why are you doing all this work if nothing is changing?” The place where I could very easily stop thinking about the workout and start thinking about what movie just arrived in the Netflix envelope. Or finally write the blog that has been rattling around in my head. Or get the suitcase packed for the trip, or vacuum the rug, or . . .

But this time I have to do things differently. Because this time I didn’t just commit to myself, I committed to God, and I just can’t break a promise to Him. This time I’m going to stick with it, because if I do – if I can just find a little more motivation, lift my doubts up to Him, and get through one more day – eventually the outside WILL match up with the inside.

So, I have to stop writing now and go work out.