I recently took this picture of Rosie and myself. My camera confirmed to me what I've known about this mirror for quite some time--it is a liar. This mirror is a skinny mirror, and fools the observer into thinking that they are fine, that outfit is a good idea, and they should have another cupcake. Liar.
The truth is, I think I could deal with being the size I am if not for two things.
- So much more of my wardrobe would open up for me if I were 10 pounds lighter.
- Fat is squishy. Fat, postpartum tummy is extra squishy. If fat were firm, therefore enabling my clothing to stay where it's supposed to/where I put it when I dressed myself, I could deal with it. If I could just look like I was wearing full body Spanx all the time without risking my elastic line getting infected (thank you Liz Lemon), I don't think I would care what my actual size was. But the fact that currently I could put on the highest waisted pair of mom jeans ever and they would still migrate down my gelatinous middle, lodging themselves right under my marshmallow-ey spare tire repeatedly throughout the day is kind of killing me. My muffin top is not all that.
- My fat face.
(though I would love to have the time, attitude, and appreciation of my fabulousness I didn't have at that time), I have reached the age where I really need to start making better choices. For instance, I need to trade in my five daily servings of chocolate for five servings of fruits when my sweet tooth needs a fix. Or maybe just four.
I know I could have done this as a New Year's resolution, and I did (sort of) try, but some medication issues got in my way, and also, New Year's resolutions are soooo cliche. Plus I like the idea of a 40 day time period. I'm better at keeping goals with a specific time limit on them. Not that I plan to give up my healthier habits after Easter. But getting back to my pre-baby weight by Easter is doable. I plan on starting Rosie on solids about that time which means right now I need to make the most of my full time breastfeeding Weight Watchers bonus points. Plus, plus, Lent is far enough after the indulgences of the holiday season that there are far fewer temptations for me in the house.
It still won't be easy. I'm very, very tired right now. I find myself telling stories to friends, realizing halfway through that I've told the story before, and deciding to finish it anyway in the hopes that their kids were up in the night, too, so they also need a reminder. Also, despite wearing contacts for over half of my life, I have twice in the last couple months opened my case to find I forgot to put solution in the contacts. And they'd been drying out for days because I had been wearing my glasses because my eyes were too tired for contacts. I tell you about these memory lapses because it proves how hard it is for me to make good food choices right now. Many times I simply forget and put things in my mouth that I shouldn't. Or I forget that "fruit flavored" is not fruit. Or that I shouldn't eat a Fiber Plus bar before going to the dentist, or any other confined space.
Exercising is also a problem. I know that it is key to actually regaining muscle tone, but it is hard. Hard because I don't like to do it. Hard because when I try to do my Pilates, my children think I'm just turning myself into a jungle gym for them. Hard because doing it before my children wake up is next to impossible, both because I'm tired and also because they like to rise before the dawn. And use me as a jungle gym.
However, I did examine my schedule and I found a partial solution. I found that throughout my day, there are many small windows of wasted time. Instead of sitting on the side of the tub, watching the clock while waiting for my children to finish their business, I'm doing my own squats. Instead of banging my head against the wall to the rhythm of my child shouting, "No! I'll do it by my fels (self)!" I'm doing wall pushups. It's not much, but it's something.
So far, my efforts are paying off. I'm down a couple pounds after the first week. And if I make it to my goal, I'm going to Disneyland!
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go use my baby as a kettle ball.