So . . . I've gain 10 pounds

Okay, I just never really lost it after my baby was born (she's three. Shut up). I've always been the really skinny girl that all the other girls hated. I remember in high school one of my friends (I use the term in the loosest possible way) was lamenting her "cottage cheese". I looked at her blankly and asked what "cottage cheese" was (it's the bumpy, fatty skin).

Yeah, I was that skinny. 

And tall. I was 5'11" in high school (I've shrunk an inch since then, WTH!). 

Anyway. Skinny. Tall. That's me. I'm still pretty thin, but for the first time in my life, I have a few curves (once again, SHUT UP). 

But here's the thing, the point, the crux of it all: I don't care. I'm not saying I LIKE it, but I'm not going to forgo eating a cookie or up my workout by another hour. I'm fine with the way I am.

Plus, there's a few things that are kinda nice. Example: I'm not freezing all the time anymore. 

I've always been cold. Cold feet. Cold hands. Freezing cold. All the time. 

But since I've failed to loose those ten pounds, I'm not burying myself under blankets all the time--even in the summer. In the winter, I'm not shivering for an hour in bed before I can warm up enough to fall asleep. I can type without my hands losing feeling. 

Maybe I'll keep those curves. If you can't beat 'em, at least enjoy the ice-cream. And be smart and hide behind signs whenever your picture is taken (see above). ;)