Archive of ‘Never Ending Diet’ category

Banishing the Baby Belly: Week One.

For the last five and a half months, I’ve been doing nothing but making excuses for my slightly less than sexy post-pregnancy bod. Excuses like,  I just had a baby. My body’s still trying to recover. Plus, I’m tired. And stressed. I don’t have time to brush my hair, let alone exercise. And my perennial favorite: I’m focusing on my baby right now. Who cares what I look like?

I care, that’s who. Although he’d never admit it, I’m pretty sure my husband does to. After all, he’s the one who has to look at me (I know, honey, you think I’m hot no matter how heavy I am, blah, blah, blah).

But you know what? That’s not even the point. The point is that I don’t feel good at this weight. I don’t have as much energy, or as much stamina, as I should. I’m certainly not doing my heart any favors.

And that little girl? The one I’ve been focusing on 100 percent? Needs a mommy who’s a good role model. One who’s healthy, and fit, and able to keep up with her. One who’s proud of her body, and can teach her to feel good about herself – by providing a good example.

So, I’m done, Internet. Done making excuses. Starting today, I’m getting down to business. I’m going to start taking my Weight Watchers Online membership seriously. Exercising at least three days a week. And  re-developing the healthy habits that help make me feel comfortable in my own skin.

I owe it to myself. And to the baby girl who gave me this belly in the first place.

And, because I can’t seem to do anything privately anymore (is blogging an addiction?), I’m going to share the journey with all of you.

I’m not telling you how much I weigh – I’m not feeling that brave. Suffice it to say that I weigh more than my husband does (cringe). And my measurements? Okay, I’m not feeling that brave either. Maybe I’ll share those in a couple months – when they’re slightly less scary.

Instead, I’m starting another blog, called Banishing the Baby Belly. That’s where I’ll write about my successes, challenges, and share inspiration (when I find it). And each Saturday, I’ll  let you know how much I’ve lost (both here and there).

If anybody out there wants to join in, I’d be happy to have you. I’m a firm believer that misery shared is slightly less painful than misery borne alone.

So…here we go. Wish me luck.

And So It Begins Again.

When I was pregnant, all my friends told me not to worry about the pounds I was gaining. They assured me that the weight would simply “fall off” once I started breast feeding. In fact, they said, I’d probably end up skinnier than I was before I got knocked up.

Well, not to put too fine a point on it, but they lied. LIED, I tell you.

Granted, the breast feeding thing didn’t quite work out as planned, but still, I pumped every three to four hours for weeks. Meaning the calorie burn was still pretty significant.

If I had a normal metabolism, the weight probably would have melted away. But I don’t. My body prefers to be somewhat Rubenesque (that’s what us curvy girls call ourselves. The rest of the world just calls us fat).  So, while I lost 15 of the 43 pounds I gained right off the bat, after that, the scale stopped moving. At all. Leaving me with 28 whopping pounds to lose.

Luckily, I am a weight loss pro. In fact, it was just a year ago that I finished the Diet To End All Diets, dropping 50 pounds. I looked pretty darn fantastic, if I don’t say so myself. See?

Yeah, like I said. Not too bad.

And now? Well, I’m not going to show you a picture of what I look like right this minute (I have my pride). But I’m not ready to give up and become that beaten down looking mom who wears sweat pants everywhere she goes (I’d rather be a MILF).

Which means I’ve got to embark on the Diet To End All Diets Part II. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’ve already reinstated my Weight Watchers membership. Started tracking every bite that goes into my mouth. Even begun exercising a little.

Unfortunately, pregnancy left me with some pretty bad habits (ice cream for dinner, anyone?) that are proving hard to break. But I know if I keep at it, I’ll get back in the groove. And ultimately, I’ll get my body back. Maybe even a better one.

And in the meantime? I’ll wear my fat pants with pride. After all, I might not look my best right now, but I gave birth to a little girl who just might be the cutest baby on earth (not that I’m prejudiced or anything).

And she? Is totally worth it.