Ever have one of those wind-beneath-your-wings type people in your life who quietly champions your cause and tirelessly supports your wildest dreams? Well, I’ve got one, and he’s my lobster.
If you’re not a fan of the sitcom Friends, then this video clip will explain the sweet euphemism borne of the on-again-off-again Rachel/Ross love conundrum. And if you’re already a fan, well then you should watch it anyway because it’s easy to forget the pure GOLD that came out of Phoebe’s mouth on a consistent basis during the run of that show.
Hope you got a good smile out of this one, I know I did when replaying it! Now back to my caring crustacean, otherwise known as my husband Steve. Steve is a solid fan of 43fitness, and of my passion for fitness in general. Gym membership? Sure. New workout clothes? Of course. 2 new wardrobes, photo session expenses, and hours away from the family rambling to others about said passion? Why in the world not? Hands down this man has had my back on this journey since day one without hesitation. He’s even been forced happy to join the clean eating ranks since I’m the family food assembler cook. Ground turkey with no seasoning as the main entree accompanied by overcooked, equally bland broccoli? Wonderful. Give me more! Needless to say he has been my rock through this whole transformation process, but that’s not all.
Steve is a very athletic guy, and in fact he was playing on 4 soccer teams the day I met him. The joy derived from participation in physical activity is not lost on him, not by a long shot, but that is not to say he was pretentious about his active lifestyle. In fact, he sometimes ventured outside the goal box to meet less active women, such as myself, in 1994. At that time I was able to get by on my youthful metabolism and decently dealt hand of genes. I was into jogging a little bit then, but on an inconsistent basis at best.
Fast forward to 2010/2011. If we all have activity peaks and valleys, then these years certainly represented the low lying areas on my topographical timeline. You can find the visuals here from that time to better illustrate my point. And the point is that I was really out of shape. Steve, on the other hand was still in excellent condition, only gently used. Because he had become a family man, soccer had taken a bit of a backseat but he was still playing, not to mention hiking, biking and skiing, and it showed. I think he knew that I’d slipped, but never once did he mention it. No subtle remarks about exercising more, eating less or my endless trips to Old Navy in search of the perfect (bigger) jeans. Bless him, he took it all in stride and loved me for who I was, and not what I looked like. In fact, when he sees photos from my ‘lumpy time’ to which it’s now referred, he says they don’t look like me. “I never remember you looking like that at all. Wow!” 
They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but I’m here to tell you that it’s in the eye of the lobster.