INSPIRATION THURSDAY: Getting Back in Shape

I’ve been inspired lately to get back in shape. I wish I could say that I love what babies have done to my body, and I’m in awe of what my body could do. I mean, I do, and I am. But I don’t so much have extra pregnancy weight as extra weight. My pregnancies caused me to become a super sugarholic, and that has not boded well for my body. My boobs are giant not because of breastfeeding, but because of the extra layer of fat underneath. When I curl up on the couch, there is some skin oozing up over my muffin top that I can feel with my hand and convince myself is not mine. My body doesn’t feel like my own anymore and I need to do something about it.

I have always exercised somewhat throughout my life. In high school, I would come home after school and do workout videos. Sometimes I would run. In college, I walked everywhere and ate very little, so I stayed thin. I remember weighing 99 pounds my freshman year of high school and being upset when I hit triple digits. Then, in my senior year of college, I “ballooned” from weighing 115 to 128. I felt huge. Ha! If only.

My yo-yo dieting has ruined my metabolism. You would think that nursing two kids while chasing after a toddler (almost simultaneously) would burn some extra calories. Or that wearing a 17 pound baby on my body at least five hours a day would make the pounds melt away. Nope, not me. I don’t burn off what I eat unless I exercise. And walking doesn’t cut it. I have to breathe hard and sweat.

I realized recently that I feel lethargic. It’s not like I get out of breath easily or anything, but when I go outside to play with Baby T I feel tired. I just want to sit. And I have to ask Big T to shovel out the compost bin because my arms and back are too weak to shovel. And when I get out of bed in the middle of the night, my ankles feel stiff. I think that’s the extra weight I’m carrying.

I always said that of course stay-at-home-moms have time to exercise. They aren’t stuck in an office for eight hours a day. Well, now that I’m no longer stuck in an office, I’ve committed myself to exercising. It hasn’t started off so well. I’ve been jogging/walking at the park after dropping Baby T off at daycare. That way I have no excuses.  I can’t come home and get sucked into Rachael Ray.

Today, I had been running for two minutes when I bit it. The front wheels of the stroller got stuck in a ditch, and I flew over the handlebars. Of my stroller. That’s right, I’m bad ass. So is Little M. I was using the snap ‘n go with his car seat, and the seat flew off and flipped upside down. With Little M in it. Luckily, none of him was sticking out. So even though he was suspended face down, looking at the sidewalk and screaming, I don’t think he hit his head or anything.

I grabbed him and nursed him, checking for bumps or bruises. He didn’t have any. I did. My shins are now one big bruise. I scraped my knuckle to the bone, and I have several scrapes on my arms. I almost got in the car and went home. Then, I thought: “Wait a minute. I popped this kid out of me without pain meds and had to get stitches in the most painful part of the body you can imagine. I can still run with a couple of bruises.” So off I went.

Now it’s throbbing and I’m icing it, but that’s beside the point. I'm committed.

So in order to preempt the later picture that shows my muffin top and giant belly, I’m showing you a picture of my bruises first. It doesn’t do them justice, though. They are long, cylindrical bruises shaped like stroller handlebars. My other shin has a giant egg on it.

Ok, so you got over that nastiness? Here’s more. This is what I look like right now. My big old 170-pound self:

I’m thinking that by posting this in front of all of you, I’ll be held accountable, because in a few months I want to be posting this: