My inner 2-year-old

 Works for me!

I've never had a kid, but I've been around enough kids (and am friends with enough mommies) to know that two-year-olds are, indeed, terrible in many ways. They can be awfully cute, too - my nephews are prime examples of cuteness - but toddlers aren't exactly known for being logical, reasonable, and/or cooperative. Which means I can pretty much recognize those characteristics when they occur in me. You see, I have an inner two-year-old, and she's a whiny brat.

My inner two-year-old always has to have things her own way. She pouts and throws tantrums at the drop of a hat. She doesn't like to share and she's sure that anyone who doesn't do things her way is doing them the wrong way. She is impatient and demanding and would give Veruca Salt a run for her money.

Most of all, my inner two-year-old incessantly complains about how unfair everything is. It's unfair that I will be counting calories for the rest of my life when it feels like every other woman I know can eat whatever they want, in any quantity. It's unfair that one cookie has the power to send me into a sugar shame spiral. It's unfair that, even after I've worked so hard, my body still has lumps and bumps and stretch marks. It's unfair that I'm short - which translates into needing fewer calories overall - and it's unfair that I still have a muffin top. It's unfair that I'm genetically disposed to big calves (no cute boots!) and Type II diabetes.

Unfair, unfair, UNFAIR!

OK, I feel better now.

The thing is, written out like that, the educated, intelligent 34-year-old that I actually am looks at that list of "unfair" things and kind of cringes. Gosh. I mean, yes, I do have a history of heart disease and high blood pressure in my family, but that doesn't mean they're inevitable for me. I'm doing what I can to control those risk factors and I have to remember that no one chooses their genetics (I also have a grandfather who lived to 90 and a great-grandmother who lived to . . . well, forever and a day old).

Yep, as discussed before in my post on the lying mirror, I'm not always 100% happy with what I see, but few if any of us are and everybody we see on TV and in magazines and on billboards is photoshopped to death anyway.

And finally, since joining the ranks of "thin" from the ranks of "overweight," I realize now how much weight and fitness is a struggle for many, many women. (Sorry, guys, I can't really offer any insight for you here.) While it may seem like the woman next to me can eat whatever she wants and not gain an ounce, the truth is that she's probably consciously or unconsciously moderating her food intake in a way that I've never grasped. I need calorie trackers whereas she's able to do it with physical cues, but we're both monitoring in some way. When I first realized this is was a complete and total shock to me: I was eating at IHOP with an old friend (I was having something off the Simple 'n Fit menu, thank you very much) while my friend was having chocolate chip pancakes. I've never seen this friend in any light but "thin" yet that day she told me that she had 3 or 4 different sizes in her closet and was constantly up and down on the scale within a certain range. That was an epiphany to me; you mean she's not "naturally thin"? She works at it, too?

I'm a big baby, yes, it's true. I want it to be easy and simple and fair. But it's not. We don't all start out on an even playing field and nothing's going to change that.

I'm responsible for what I do now. And that responsibility (which my inner 2-year-old is DYING to get rid of) is the 34-year-old's job.

Now, when's nap time?