Working Out: If I make this public, I might follow through

If you've ever been on Pinterest, you've seen those fitness boards (and the bot accounts that post only that) full of "3 Weeks To Abs!" or "Arms For Summer". I saved a few of those because they seemed simple, I could fit them into my unorganized days. I still haven't. Wake up call came today, I had to hold my legs up in the air for all of 30 seconds and I couldn't do it. I literally could not hold my legs up in the air without support. I was so disgusted with myself that I forced myself to actually LOOK at what I have saved and to try them. Last day of school, so I don't have too much of a timeline to worry about now and can do it at any time. This was really simple (or so I thought). I don't have the link that corresponds, just the photo. Check out day 1:

"5 crunches?", I scoffed "Who can't do that?" Me. Humbly, huffing puffing me. I hate how far I've slipped, I've never been in the best of shape, but I am kind of active. I walk on a near daily basis. I volunteer once a week where I'm hauling around bags of clothes (If you think they aren't heavy, try carrying lawn bags and totes full of them and throwing them. Then we'll talk). My diet isn't the greatest, but I eat a lot of fresh fruits and try to get veggies in (Farmers Market is more cost effective and the stuff lasts). And here I am. I have a damn gym membership and have I used it in the past 3 months? No. Lately I see myself in the mirror and want to cry. Depression is rearing its ugly head and I'm not even sure I'm fighting it. Add summer temps on top and it's a while pile of hell (my legs + shorts gets the same results as dividing by zero). I want to do things with my daughter this year. I want to go to the pool with her (which means a swimsuit, brace yourselves spandex industry). I want to take walks, visit the park, do THINGS. But if I can't even bring myself to look at myself in the mirror, can't give a good hard look at just how much space my pants take up on the clothes line, can't bend over and paint my toenails without not breathing (part of that is a boob problem, ladies you have my back right?), how am I supposed to do that? She doesn't care, kids don't see their parents as fat. They just see Mom (or Dad, I'll be fair here) and that is that. But for her sake, I care. I don't want to hear one of her friends say "Omg, is that your mom?" unless they are talking about whatever weird hair colour I'm sporting. For her sake, I want to be able to run with her after a ball and actually make her push herself. I want to be able to wear clothes that she can raid my closet for. I want to look at myself and be happy. I want to be able to accept the compliments that my husband gives me. This will never be a fitness blog, or even a follow-my-journey thing. I knit. I read. I doodle. I marathon Netflix. I'm a couch potato at heart, otherwise I doubt I'd have ever started a blog. But that doesn't mean I have to look like this while I watch an entire season of a show in a week. Or read a 7 book series in a week. I can be happy with myself and be myself and that is my goal. I want to smile when I see myself in photos. And I want my daughter to smile with me.