What's Your Excuse?

Everyone should have a “Hey, you should read this” friend. I have one. And we send each other links sporadically and discuss them throughout the day. On our off days, we just send each other screenshots of ridiculous Facebook statuses (No one is safe…)

It’s like the grown-up version of SnapChat. But anyway, she sends me this one today. Take a quick look—it’s not long and you’ll get the gist of what I’m talking about in this entry.

http://www.today.com/moms/i-just-make-it-priority-fit-mom-viral-photo-speaks-8C11410696

I’m not going to pick a team on this one, surprisingly. The stretch marks streaking down my leg like a highway stripe are crying out for me to lash out on this woman like so many others have done. I haven’t even had a baby body to recover from yet and I was like, “Oh.No.She.Didn’t.”

But I will give her one thing. She openly admits that she makes it a priority. I much prefer this to celebrities who always claim that they “despise working out” and “eat pizza like all the time.” Right. And my favorite dessert is kale.

I haven’t always been so lenient. I haven’t always been so kind. My natural inclination—like so many others—is to fire back with criticism and hidden jealousy. I have been guilty of seeing women in shape on my newsfeed and making my own assumptions about their lives. And I’m sure they’ve even looked at me on occasion and wondered what happened to the chick who used to run down a basketball court multiple times without passing out.

But what it really boils down to is priorities. And everyone has them. They’re all different; they’re all shaped by our personalities, molded by our surroundings. They change.

And you know what?

It’s OK.

I do the best I can; I’ve actually lost 8 pounds since last month (that’s a bowling ball, ya’ll). But I have stopped trying to set these unattainable goals. I’ve stopped letting other people’s gym selfies get under my skin (well, except you, lady-who-wouldn’t-know-a-muffin-top-if-a-real-one-hit-you-in-the-face).

I have made my choice though; and that choice is spending some extra time in bed every morning with my husband and dog; to instead blot light concealer on the sides of my nose and pretend it makes my face look skinnier. Yeah, I read that. I work out when I can, but I won’t turn away a last minute dinner with a friend to get 100 more crunches in. Sometimes I want a Taco Bell taco so bad that I will work out 30 minutes so I can come out even on my iPhone calorie
demoncounter.

But some people choose differently; some people wake up and run before the crack of dawn. Some people find that a vigorous workout lends itself to becoming a better friend, wife, and mother. To others, it’s therapy.

And that’s fine.

But we have to stop asking people “What’s your excuse?” and instead inquire “What’s your story?” Because until you know someone’s priorities, their struggles, their stories, you have no right to judge their excuses.