A few months back, I spoke of defining moments. You know, those things that make you change everything you’re doing.

Lately, I haven’t been motivated whatsoever — eating everything I wanted, not exercising at all. Basically, I’ve been a lazy bum.

But Thursday night, my moment finally arrived. 

As I was sitting down on the couch beside my son, about mid-sit, he warns me not to sit on his toys.

"Mommy! Don’t sit on my toys!" he said. 

I reply with "Don’t worry, I won’t." 

And then, without missing a beat, he shot back with my defining moment.

"Oh, that’s right, you’re so fat you wouldn’t feel them anyway."

My heart sank, my jaw dropped and all I could do was stare at him in disbelief. 

He immediately realized he hurt my feelings and told me, "I wasn’t trying to be rude, Mommy." 

And I know he wasn’t. He was just speaking the truth. 

But just to be clear, I’m pretty sure a Transformer in the tush is gonna hurt no matter how much junk I’ve got in the trunk. 

Tears started to stream down my face, and feelings of being a horrible parent started to overwhelm me.

I don’t want to be the fat Mom. Although there are several of us out there, I don’t want to be in the club anymore. 

It’s no fun.

As I was putting him to bed, I broke down in tears, and he asked why I was crying. I told him I was sorry for being a fat Mom. His response was something my Dad has told me a thousand times.

"I don’t care if you’re fat or not, I still love you."

After I put him to bed, I went in my room and cried more. I sent "I’m crushed" text messages to my friends telling them of the situation, and they all assured me that I am a beautiful girl, and that he didn’t know what he was saying.

He did know what he was saying, and he spoke the truth. 

I’m finished. I posted on Facebook last night that I’ve officially gone into hiding. I’m not hiding from my problems. I’m hiding from the old me — the one who craves the stupid things late at night, the one who goes and grabs a burger and fries instead of a salad for lunch every day, the one who can’t leave the stupid Reese’s cups in the cabinet alone!

It’s over and done. I am physically and mentally exhausted after working all day, but I can guarantee I will get to the gym and this weight WILL be gone. 

If I can’t get to the gym, my poor neighbors will just have to deal with seeing me doing squats in front of the TV.

So next week, when I see you at the scale, I’m betting I’ll be at least four pounds lighter. I’m just sayin’.

(Log Cabin staff writer Leigh Anne Shapard can be reached by phone at (501)505-1221 or by e-mail at leighanne.shapard@thecabin.net)