...and its making me miserable!!
To be fair, he doesn't need to lose any weight at all. When we started dating he had an affinity for rubbish take-away kebabs (if you've not lived in England, you can't truly appreciate how awful these things are) and beer. Classic bachelor. I moved in, and we started eating healthier, balanced meals and drinking less, though the lure of Nando's Portuguese rolls with Peri Peri chicken breast, peri-seasoned fries and peri-naise (plus a side of South African Savannah Cider) proved too tempting once a week. Yes folks, once a week. Shameful and wonderful in one sitting. I digress.
About a year before our wedding - the ceremony, not the legal one - James started running with me. I've been running for approximately 11 years and it took James a few months to get comfortable with the idea of running, a few more months to learn how to run and very little time to be able to run alongside me on the 8mile jaunts. Running really transformed his shape and to be perfectly honest, I think it continues to do wonders for his self-esteem. He's finally getting the runner's high. And while I do so love to run with him - its our time to really connect, whether we are just encouraging one another, chatting freely or discussing an important issue - I'm finding that a rather nasty character has decided to make its presence known. My jealousy. I am so ridiculously jealous of James' progress this summer. His level of fitness, his ease and confidence, and the lovely changes to his body as a result, are enough to send me into a frenzy. And I'm not referring to the maritally appropriate kind. A frenzy of jealousy.
He has to slow his pace for me.
He has to take walking breaks for me (and belly).
He is losing weight, increasing fitness, and gaining confidence while I get bigger and more uncomfortable (and my wardrobe options shrink and with them, my confidence).
To rub salt - the gritty sea-salt kind - into the wound, my husband's training in the police is exciting, interesting and will further his career. I spend my days cleaning, worrying about moving arrangements, doing groceries and generally fretting. I see James leaping forward in his life while I potter about domestically, the validity of which does not escape me, but is not something I'm familiar with. Its always been something that got done in addition to work and other activities. House hold chores, to-do lists, moving arrangements, purchasing furniture and endless phone calls and emails in preparation have now become a full time job. Its valid, its necessary, but I'd much rather be training to shoot a gun, or learning to roll an assailant off my back. In uniform.
Everytime my husband takes off his shirt to shower or change for bed, and I see his new defined abdomen, I get a tiny bit more jealous. And reach for a piece of chocolate. Or a biscuit. I have got to find my domestic mojo, and it needs to be done quickly! It's an amplification of a personality trait I've always possessed and presume to never be without. The need to achieve. So yes, this ungrateful heart is feeling particularly jealous at the moment.
By God's grace, my jealousy is good-natured and I'm filled with love for James which allows me to be genuinely happy for him. Though, I have started making a list of post-pregnancy activities I intend to take up. Martial arts of sort to satisfy my rough and tumble nature and fencing, for my desire for precision, athleticism and fancy. In the interim, I suppose I could spend this time learning how to cook, a skill I'm sure my husband would appreciate far more than an Attaque au fer.
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