One of my favorite preachers was in town on Monday afternoon.  I planned my whole day around trekking down to the church so I could be firmly in my seat at 3:30 pm.

But then life happened.  I woke up at 4:30 thinking I had to work. Took me afull 45 minutes to realize that I had the day off. Based on that wee bit of information, I justified lying around until 9:00am. (Generally if i’m still in the bed at 8am, it’s because I’m sick.) I probably needed the rest, but it completely wrecked my schedule.

Due to a series of unfortunate events earlier in the week, I was suffering from headaches, and a couple of dizzy spells.  As a result, it took me much longer to finish my chores, as I kept needing to take a break.  When I looked up, it was 2pm,and I still had a ton of work to do.  I told my husband that I would probably not make my 3:30 engagement.  Instead we decided to visit my mother-in-law.

While at her home, another set of symptoms hit me.  I had pains and discomfort that seemed to come from nowhere.  I pretty much spent two hours at her house laying on the floor.  (Her floor is super comfortable, though.)  She and my husband both seemed very concerned.  Secretly, I was starting to worry, too…but don’t tell them.

Anyway, I wasn’t completely caught off guard by this unusual onslaught of symptoms.  I had experienced them shortly after my husband and I began our life together.  Just as we were starting to settle in, I started sleeping in later, and feeling mysterious pains.  I blamed it on our new mattress, and our mismatched schedule.  But shortly after that, hubby and I talked it out and put a name to our shared ailment.

Lazy Butt Syndrome.  LBS.  Turns out the two of us had gotten comfortable (lazy).   He was fresh out of the Navy.  I was fresh out of college.  We had exchanged our very active lifestyles for laying on the couch, eating popcorn, and watching rented movies from Blockbuster (we’ve been married a little while.)  Anyway, all that laying around and snacking went straight to our rear ends (hence the B in LBS).

So I recognized these symptoms pretty quickly.  Plus an old lady at church, made sure to point out that I had gained weight.  All it would take is a quick hop on the scale to confirm the diagnosis.

So Tuesday morning, I got up, went to work and made my way to the scale.  I dreaded the diagnosis as much as I dreaded the 4:30 am alarm. And sure enough, the scale confirmed what I had known all along.  I was up 3 pounds from before the holidays.

3 LBS.

Not bad for a girl who baked a cake just so she could eat some left over german chocolate frosting.  Pretty good for a girl whose fitbit only clocked about 5000 steps in a 5 day period.  (I didn’t even bother to put it on for 3 of those days.)  But not so good for a girl trying to get beach body ready for her 15th anniversary.

So join me in my fight against this debilitating disease.  After i polish off this cake…and that last bottle of wine.

Mama Radford