Preamble: Right when I realized this post was set to publish (thanks schedule feature!) I got hit with two blog posts in my Reader that slathered on a little guilt on top of my remaining upper arm flub, and pulled back on the post going live:
Scary Mommy's "The Race Towards Body Acceptance"
Love, Krystal's "My Muffin Top-A Journey of Self Acceptance"
Well, snap. But the truth is, the only race/journey I am on right now is to not feel better about the body I have, but work on getting the body that feels better. And while that is not something I am proud of, it's where I am.
Love me or leave me, folks.
I was going to leave this post on the cutting room floor, but that's no fun.
On to the show:
Here I sit, 9 weeks out from having August, and I'm still hovering at 9lbs above my pre-pregnancy weight.
I'm going to be honest--I've never felt so out of shape and eager to lose weight.
I've got a few things working against me:
- 3rd pregnancy
- 1st full term pregnancy
- 8 weeks of bedrest
- short order cook for those 8 weeks (eggs, cheese, dove dark chocolate...oh my!)
- 3 children who demand almost all my waking (and non waking if you consider the hours I nurse in a haze) hours
- a husband training for a marathon and eating up any time I may have to work out
- old(er) age
And after the first two pregnancies, I had a lot of anxiety for various reasons. And if you know me, anxiety is my biggest weight loss secret. That, and some amazing genes that I am going to assume comes mostly from my maternal side of the family.
More than the # on the scale, I just don't feel fit. I've been breeding for 5 years, and now I am ready to get back to that girl who could fit in her pants and feel good about it. I still have the pipe dream of running 20 minutes or under for a 5K and averaging 7:05 minute miles for a half marathon...but right now, my realistic goal is to complete a half marathon on Thanksgiving. And not have to buy new pants. (Those suckers are 'spensive!)
I've never been a slave to the scale in an attempt to loose weight. Similarly, I've never counted calories to restrict them. Many know I have had struggles to keep weight on at times in my life due to severe anxiety and stress, and I've been known to spend hours trying to find the highest calorie food to shove in my face. (Don't hate...it's actually quite miserable given that no one ever wants to hear another girl agonize about not weighing enough. That, or you are immediately cast as having an eating disorder.)
But now, at thirty (ahem) three, I think I am going to have to start being more mindful of what goes in my body. At the same time, I know that I need to be mindful of not obsessing about what goes in my body, because those of us who have a history of OCD can get all caught up on numbers 'n stuff.
Listen, I know that for having 3 children and being over 30, things could be a lot worse. And I am certainly not fishing for compliments, but coming to terms with the fact that I am entering a period of life where I need to be more mindful of diet and exercise in an attempt to feel fit and remain healthy.
It's not like I conducted meta analyses of obesity, physical activity, and nutrition studies at the CDC...or did I?
So, I'd like to see the scale move down by a solid 5lbs by the end of August, and am giving myself 38 weeks from the time I had Gus to get back into what I call "shape."
- Utilize My Fitness Pal app. Love. It tracks just about everything you eat and do. I am not religious about it, but I love scanning bar codes of food I eat. And I love entering a -500 calories for breastfeeding!
- Do circuit training at least 4 times a week. (And I have for the last few weeks!). I adapted a plan that I saw from the Erica Finds blog. I exchanged out some of the activities, and I do 3 circuits, which Eric monitors. I.hate.high.knees.
- Do 5 minute abdominal workout at least 2 times a week. I just downloaded a bunch of free ab workout apps on my phone. They are lame. But so is a spare tire.
- RUN. And by run, I mean slog (slow jog). I have never ever ever ever ever...did I say ever? run this slowly in my life. It's almost embarrassing. No, it is embarrassing. But I run every single step of the courses that my trainer (Eric) plots out for me each day. Up until bedrest, I actually walked every night when Eric bathed the boys, for 35-45 minutes. So I thought I would have some residual cardiovascular strength. Mmmm, no. So I have thrown the watch to the wayside, declined any gmaps pedometer researching, and let Eric give me a route of unknown length to tackle. Right now, the runs are about 30-40 minutes in length. That's it. And any time I feel like walking, I chant to myself "Biggest Loser." And imagine Bob or Jillian or Dolvett (Usually Dolvett. He's dreamy.) screaming in my face.
- Indulge. This isn't about complete sacrifice. Mama likes a good pinot or bubbly. And dark chocolate.