Setting an Example

I went to the gym last night, and while I sweated and ran and sweated some more, the Miss Universe pageant came on one of the gym televisions. And as I watched the opening bit, I saw young woman after young woman cross the stage. And it all felt a little bit disgusting.

There I was, working my ass off to maintain my size 8, a size that I haven't seen on my jeans tags since high school, a size that I'm very proud of and hope to maintain. Meanwhile, on TV, there are the supposed most beautiful women in the world parading across a stage, and not a one of them was likely bigger than a size 4. If that.

They all looked nearly identical. Tall, very thin, long bouncy hair, bleached straight white teeth, skin completely free of acne or freckles, high cheekbones. If it weren't for their sashes (and to be fair, quite a number of skin tones) I would have a difficult time telling these women apart. Hardly any women can  attain this standard of beauty. Is this really what we all should be trying to look like?

As the mother of a daughter, I am seeing things like the Miss Universe pageant in a way that I never have before. These women, the way they look—this is the look that my daughter will see in TV, movies, magazines, and the look that will probably make her question whether she's pretty enough. How do I tell her she's beautiful the way she is? And what kind of example should I be setting? I was missing family dinner last night so I could exercise (for the record, normally I work out at other times, but I was wanting to go to a class—that ended up being canceled). I exercise for my health, yes, but like I said before, I want to maintain my current size. With pregnancy, I gained a lot of weight, and it's something I do not want to fight my entire life. I don't want to gain then lose, gain then lose, gain then lose. Now that I've lost weight, I really want to keep it off. But how do I continue to strive for this in my own life while also assuring Olive that she's perfect no matter what she looks like?

I'm not the first mother to raise a daughter. With TV shows like Honey-Boo-Boo (a show I've never seen, by the way) and all those pageant shows with little girls, it seems like it's getting harder to let little girls just be little girls for very long. I see seven-year-olds wearing heels, ten-year-olds wearing slinky tank tops and booty shorts. I don't know how to navigate these kind of parenting waters. But Olive is young, and we'll just have to figure it out together.

I do know that no matter what she looks like, or how she chooses to live her life, I'll love her forever, with my whole entire heart. Even if she wants to be Miss Universe.

Changes

When I was pregnant with Milo, I gained a lot of weight. I managed to lose all the baby weight, but I held on to about 10 extra pounds that had slowly crept on over the last few years. When I got pregnant with Olive, I didn't want to gain as much weight as with my first pregnancy. But morning sickness and the dreariness of it all got to me, and I basically had a completely lackluster attitude about it.

I ate whatever I wanted and somehow that translated into weight gain. I was mad at myself for letting it happen, but I made no effort to remedy the situation. I think I had already given up on ever being thin or even average. I was 30, I hardly exercised, and I never have had an athletic or naturally thin body type. I figured that baby weight was mine for good.

And then I had Olive, and a few weeks after her birth, I was feeling like a huge fat cow. I hated looking at myself. I had no one to blame but myself and it was depressing. On top of carrying around an extra 70 pounds, I had a ton of ugly stretch marks around my middle. Everything was saggy and gross. And moms, you know how it is, feeling bad about your post-baby body and being so hormonal and tired that everything is magnified a thousand times. It was not a good time.

A friend of mine had done Weight Watchers in the past and was planning to join again after her baby was born. On somewhat of a whim, I signed up. Didn't really think about it, just decided something had to be done about this weight. I wasn't ready to give up yet. I started tracking my food and making small changes. Less bread. Less cheese. Fewer random snacks. Smaller portions.

And the weight started to come off. Five months later, I am down 65 pounds from where I was the day before Olive was born. That's two Milos. I figure I have about five pounds to go before I'll start maintenance, though I have no idea how to do that. I'm very good at gaining weight, and pretty good at losing it, but never staying the same. So we'll see how that goes.

But it wasn't just Weight Watchers that has changed me. For some crazy reason, a few months ago I decided it would be a good idea to start running. And before I'd ever even tied up my laces, I signed up for a 5K. When I signed up, the race was in 12 weeks, giving me plenty of time to train with the nine-week Couch to 5K program.

I'm now about to start Week 8 of the program, and the difference in my body is incredible. My arms and legs are more toned than they've ever been. Ever. My face and neck look visibly thinner to me. Pants that have been too tight for years are suddenly baggy. My wedding ring slips and slides around my finger. I'm wearing skinny jeans and enjoying them, for crissakes. Even though my tummy still has the almost-faded stretchmarks and extra roundness that are the telltale signs of having recently had a baby, I feel better about my body than I have since I got married.

It's not just outside changes that I am noticing, either. I can run 25 minutes without walking. I'm sure my heart is getting healthier. I can walk up more flights of stairs before feeling winded. Never in my life have I exercised as much as I am right now. And it feels pretty incredible.

Sometimes I feel guilty for leaving in the evenings to go work out. I miss the kids' bedtime, and there are few things I love more than reading stories and cuddling with Milo. But I'm so glad that he gets to see me put on my workout clothes and head out the door. He is learning that exercise is important. I want to set a good example for him and pave the way for his and Olive's lifelong health.

To sum up, I'm proud of myself. If I can make these kinds of changes, anyone can. Because I really like eating and watching television. My 5K is in exactly one month. And I am going to finish it.

8,425 steps and counting

The last couple days I've felt so incredibly busy, but my according to my Fitbit, I've been almost completely inactive, managing only about 2,500 steps a day. Today, after holding Olive while she took the longest nap of all time, the inactivity was starting to get to me. Andrew encouraged me to go for a walk, and I took him up on his offer to put Milo to bed and stay home with the kids.

It was glorious. Hot and sweaty, but glorious. I listened to my Britney Spears Pandora station and headed down to the trails near our house. And get this: I jogged. I know, I couldn't believe it either. And I actually enjoyed it. My legs were feeling good and I wanted to jog further, but my kegel muscles were threatening to give out. And those are not muscles you really want to push to the limit.

Who knows? Maybe someday I will run that 5k I swore I was going to run six years ago and still haven't ever trained for. Crazier things have happened.

Crazy or Dedicated?

Yesterday I started back up with my weekly personal training sessions. I quit going when the "morning" sickness kicked my ass for the entire summer. But, you know, since I hadn't thrown up in a week, I thought it was high time to start exercising again.

When I got there, my (male) trainer said, "Looks like you've got a little belly there." Yes. Yes, I do. It tends to grow with pregnancy.

Working out was way harder than I expected. I'm not sure if it was extra tough because I haven't lifted any weight (other than the constant lifting of my nearly 30-pound toddler) in a few months or because I'm pregnant. Or both, probably. But it was not easy. I couldn't (and didn't want to) lift nearly as much weight as I was before. I got out of breath quickly. My lower back felt strained at times, causing me to pull back even more. My pesky round ligament pain held me back, too.

But I did it.

And even though this morning my lower back and round ligament are aching more than normal, I'll be back next week for more torture exercise.

A Breakthrough

Yesterday evening I got a call from my trainer, Scott. He said he wasn’t feeling well and would have to cancel our session that night.

And you know what? I felt disappointed.

Never before have I been told that I would no longer be working out as planned and felt anything other than unadulterated joy. But maybe—just maybe—working out regularly for the past five months or so has finally flipped a switch in me. Could it be that I miss exercising when I have to miss exercising? Or does it just make me write confusing sentences?

The Weight Is Over (see what I did there?)

I'm officially back to my pre-pregnancy weight. It only took seven and a half months to get there, but here I am. And yet, though it is so expected, I'm still surprised by how different my body is.

My belly is distinctly rounder and squishier than it used to be. No amount of sucking in really makes it go away. My boobs are way bigger than they were pre-baby, thankyouverymuch, breastfeeding. But because of the exercise (thank you, personal training), my buns and thighs and arms are more toned than they ever have been. I'm no Jillian Michaels, but it's a start.

Of course, I'm not yet at the finish line, weight loss-wise. I gained a lot of weight when we were trying to conceive, because I was frustrated and upset, and I'm an emotionally eater. So I still have about 15 pounds to go before I get to where I'd like to be. Shouldn't be too hard, right? It's not like we're heading into that time of year when there are cookies and pies and pastries at Every. Single. Turn.

Oh. Wait. Damn . . .

All things considered...

My ten-year high school reunion is coming up in a couple weeks. I'm feeling a little anxious about it, in a purely superficial way. I have become sort of obsessed with making sure I look good that night. Not "good for having just had a baby." Just good, period. (UGH, pet peeve. I HATEHATEHATE it when people tell me I look good considering I just had a baby. That's like telling me I don't look quite as good as I used to, but hey, "A" for effort!!) I know it shouldn't matter that much. And to stress over it? It's illogical, really. But there it is.

I'm generally a fairly confident person, but there is something about socializing with a bunch of people I went to high school with that brings out all the old insecurities. It makes me nervous just thinking about it, and when I get nervous, I say stupid things and my face gets all red. Then I start sweating and end up with gross rings under my armpits. And that makes me self-conscious and sweat even more. It's a vicious cycle, really. And I am no doubt embarrassing myself further by writing about it. Several people I went to high school with read this—and who knows how many might read it on facebook? (Perhaps writing about it will make it go away? Like carrying an umbrella so it won't rain.)

I went to the mall this afternoon to buy something that would make me look hot. It was a complete failure. Nothing fit. Loose, flowy tops clung to my round, post-Milo belly. Fitted tops didn't look good with my breastfeeding giganto boobs. And forget jeans. Maybe my expectations were too high. I wanted to find something that would make my body look like it did when I was 18—and that is completely unrealistic. I have been losing weight—only 13 pounds to go to reach my pre-pregnancy weight—but seeing myself in those unforgiving dressing-room mirrors today made me feel huge and gross. It's funny, too, because I've been working out a lot and actually think I'm getting to be in the best shape of my life—just with a few extra pounds hanging on.

I need to snap out of it. Surely I won't be the only one at the reunion who looks different than she did at graduation. And surely I won't be the only one trying to look fantastic. I'll find something fab to wear, and I'll look good in it. Especially considering I DID just have a baby....

I Give Me an A for Effort

I did it. I completed my first hour of personal training. I'd say it was quite a success.

Because of scheduling, I'm not working with Nicole, my former trainer and current yoga teacher. (So sad, I'll definitely miss working with her!) Instead I am training with Scott. I checked out his profile on the Complete Body website a couple days ago, and my first thought was, "He sorta looks like Kevin Bacon." So far I like him. Unfortunately, he didn't look as much like Kevin Bacon in real life, and my dreams of dancing to "Footloose" for the workout quickly fizzled. But I digress. It was a good first workout. I was tired, sweaty, and could feel the sore muscles coming on, but I felt good at the end of the hour.

As I type this (one-handed, with a baby attached to my bewb), it's about 2:30 in the morning, just six-ish hours after exercising. My legs were already aching in protest when I stood up to go feed Milo. It took way too much focus jiust to pick up my feet and shuffle across the hall. Let's hope my arms don't feel that sore by morning or I won't even be able to carry Milo. I'd need a babysitter to come just so this boy's diapers would get changed and such. And with one grandma out of town, my chances of getting a babysitter are down 50 percent.

Fortunately, I don't think it will come to that (though grandmas are welcome anytime). I am pretty freaking strong, you know, even after months of inactivity. You just wait—in a few months, my muscles will have muscles. And soon those 40 pounds will be gone.

What have I done?

I am not pregnant anymore, yet somehow the vast majority of my pregnancy weight gain has not yet gone away. Thanks for nothing, breastfeeding! What, like it is supposed to take TIME for the weight to come off? Pfffffttt! I want those 40 remaining pounds gone ASAP. Yes, 40. A good twenty of those came from all those baby-needs-ice-cream-okay-technically-frozen-custard trips to Sheridan's. The other half slowly crept on over the six months prior to conceiving because of all those I'm-sad-I'm-not-pregnant-yet trips to Sheridan's.

Mmmm, I like frozen custard...

But that is not the point.

The point is, I have a lot of weight to lose, and frozen custard isn't helping the situation. Drastic action is needed, and I may have just done something crazy. On impulse, a complete whim (which I thought about for three or four days before reaching any conclusions), I decided to resume personal training. Unlike before, however, when I just saw my trainer once every six weeks and the rest was up to me, I shall now be seeing my trainer twice a week. And did I mention that I will also be taking a yoga class once a week? I know! I think it's crazy, too! But I have Milo now, and he makes it hard to find time to really exercise and easy to make excuses. I needed to schedule my workouts to make them happen. Now I've got three of them on the calendar each week.

And that terrifies me. I haven't worked out in several months. Oh, sure, I had every intention of working out throughout the entire pregnancy. But then morning sickness happened. Then being hugely uncomfortable happened. Somehow exercising just didn't happen. In some ways I'm SO ready for this, but in other ways, I'd like to please continue to sit on the couch. Failing is my biggest fear, and I avoid it by not trying. My first instinct is to not really try to lose the weight, because then I can't fail at it. But my desire to wear my prepregnancy clothes and fit into a single-digit pants size motivate me.

It's not going to be easy. But I desperately want to feel good about my body and that means dropping those 40 pounds. Now, would someone please remind me of that tomorrow when every muscle in my body hurts? My first training session is in just a few hours...

Wish me luck!

A Few Loosely Connected Paragraphs

Today I am 16 weeks pregnant. All the books tell me that sometime between 16 and 20 weeks is when I should start to feel the baby moving. I am so looking forward to that. Sometimes, as I’m lounging on the couch or laying in bed, I try to focus on the way I feel, like maybe I could feel something if I were only paying attention. It hasn’t worked so far, and I’m guessing that the first moment I feel movement will completely catch me off guard. I hope I feel something before our sonogram. It seems like it would be nice to be able to feel tiny movements while seeing the same movements on the screen. Like rumble seats in the theater.

An update on maternity pants: I do love the elastic, comfy waistband, but I hate how these pants keep falling down. I’m constantly hiking them up. Can someone please tell me if this will improve as my waistline expands, or if it will continue to annoy me for the next 5 and a half months?

While getting dressed this morning, I realized that I should probably think about buying a few maternity shirts. Or at least wash the two I already have. I was fortunate enough to borrow a handful of tops from Lindsay, but since I haven’t cleaned out my closet yet, those shirts are still in the storage bin they came in. Note to self: must box up too-small or soon-to-be-too-small clothes asap.

I stopped by the grocery store on my way home yesterday to pick up milk and apples. And then I decided to get some hummus and a salad to eat for dinner. And then the Double Stuf Oreos caught my eye. So of course I bought them.

Tonight I have a personal training session. I’m curious to see how my workouts start to change as I start to change. I’m already to the point where I’m not supposed to do any more exercises while lying on my back, like chest flies. Should be exhausting. But my favorite part of the evening will be my 3M’s conference call with Emily and Molly. And the Double Stuf Oreos, of course.

I can ride my bike with no handlebars

Last weekend Andrew and I bought a stationary bike. We’re sick of going to the gym. Or we were sick of it three months ago, which is when we stopped going to the gym. We’d been thinking about buying an exercise bike for a long time, but they all seemed so expensive. Or crappy. We didn’t want to spend a bunch of money on something that wouldn’t last, and we felt like we couldn’t afford to spend a bunch of money, so we never purchased anything.

But then we found it. We were browsing at a fitness equipment place, and were considering a few of the bikes. The salesman was telling us about the different features and whatnot, then casually suggested we check out the Tectrix, a bike that was recently traded in for a newer model. It’s just $300, he said.

We checked it out. It looked sort of dated, and wasn’t as flashy as the new bikes. But it was sturdy, and had all the functions we were looking for. It seemed too good to be true. We decided to leave the store and think about it.

So we left and looked up the bike online. That same model, used, was going for about $1200 to $2000 online. So $300? Very cheap. We went back to the store right after lunch and sealed the deal. We are now the proud owners of a Tectrix BikeMax 3000. And I’ve even been getting up early before work to exercise. In fact, I’ve worked out five of the last seven days. Not bad, eh? And I don’t miss the gym at all.

Juxtaposition

I exercised with Stephanie and Lindsay after work until I was exhausted and sweaty. I'm all about the health, you know. Then I went home and ate a peanut butter and bacon sandwich.

UPDATE: I do not regret that sandwich. It was delicious. Plus, it was turkey bacon. (Does that make it better?)

Does anyone else have Jell-o legs?

No? Just me then?

Tonight was personal trainer night, and my ass is officially kicked. In a good way. I’ve been feeling pretty unmotivated lately. Things at work have been really busy (you may have noticed my lack of regular posting) and my energy is completely sapped. So I haven’t been going to the gym as much or working as hard when I’m there. Which is a bad cycle to get in, because it just gets harder the next time. Plus, I pretty much hate the gym. It’s so loud, I can’t even hear my own headphones. It’s too crowded. And I don’t really have anymore specific reasons, but I want to emphasize how much the gym sucks.

But back to my training session. We talked about how much I dislike being at the gym, and we decided to make my next exercise plan work at home. We actually have some dumbbells and a weight bench, so I can do all these exercises at home without any trouble. The only thing missing is a treadmill or bike, but that’s a purchase for another day. (And that day is far, far in the future. Have I mentioned how we are spending all our money on our upcoming awesome vacation to Spain, Portugal, Morocco, and Paris?)

So even though I’m feeling so beat and weak right now, I’m actually looking forward to working out again. I could use some new workout music, though. If you’ve got any exercise faves, please pass them on. I mean that, you know.

Because I haven't got a lot to say.

I am eating a Rice Krispie treat that was left over from someone's work anniversary party or something. Except it's not a normal one, it has Fruity Pebbles in it. Why? Why did they ruin the treat with fruityness? It tastes kinda weird. And yet? I will continue to eat it. And this sort of behavior is exactly why I must keep going to the gym.

Bullet-point Monday

Because I am not up to the task of writing a cohesive narrative, I give you the ever-popular bulleted list.

• I joined Facebook and so far, I just don’t get it. A couple of people that I barely know (and never really knew) have added me as a friend. Why? What do we have to catch up on, exactly? But it’s early yet, so I’ll give it time. Maybe I just haven’t figured it out. I’m kind of slow like that.
• We’re going to a wedding this weekend. A wedding in which Andrew is a groomsman. And yesterday, Andrew wrapped a gift for the happy couple. And picked out a card. And wrote the message in the card (And, by the way, he did not just slap a few words of congratulations down and call it a day, he actually typed the message out beforehand to be sure it said what he wanted it to say. And had me check over it in my editorly fashion.). And then wrote it out all nice and neat in the card. Aren’t you so impressed with his forethought and careful deliberation? I am.
• It has come to my attention that my pea-brained cats have not been using the Cat Genie. All I have to say about this is “ew.”
• Began carpool #2 this morning. Here’s hoping this one works out better than the last.
• My cute-yet-still-appropriate-for-work Bermuda shorts fit again! And are even a little large! I bought these just over a year ago, sometime before my wedding, when I was working out all the damn time. Then, I got married, promptly quit working out, and began eating a lot of leftover wedding pastries. Word to the wise, don’t try this at home. I gained about 15 pounds in a matter of a few short months. But as you may recall, I began going to a personal trainer back in January (or was it February? It’s not like I have archives to help me remember these things. OH WAIT.) and have begun a regular exercise regimen AND IT IS FINALLY MAKING SOME SORT OF DIFFERENCE.

And that is all I have to say today.

Harder Better Faster Stronger

For Christmas, I asked for a few sessions with a personal trainer, and I got them. Three of them. Last week I had my first appointment with my new trainer, Nicole. Since I have a gym membership and Nicole is not employed by the gym, the plan was that she would work up some kind of weightlifting-stretching-etc. routine for me to follow when I’m at the gym.

Despite barely being able to walk for three days after my first appointment (the squats and lunges very nearly killed me), I think I’m going to like this plan. I have a list of exercises, and I do them. No standing around in the gym wondering which mysterious piece of equipment I should attempt to navigate next. So far it’s all going well. Andrew has gone with me and done the same exercises, which is awesome. I’d like to think he’s there to motivate me, but he’s probably doing the routine to get himself in better shape. But it’s nice having him there. Who else would count for me and make sure I’m doing all the reps?

My next appointment with Nicole is in three weeks. I’m hoping that by then she sees some improvement. Send good exercisey thoughts my way, please. Working out is hard.