So the on going saga that is my weight continues. I must be honest here. I want to lose the baby fat from two years ago before I even consider getting pregnant again. I have half heartedly tried here and there to get in shape and eat better but I am sort of like a smoker - I just keep doing the same stuff all the while promising myself that tomorrow, next week, next month I will quit.
I am addicted to these thoughts and perhaps I am enjoying the failure more then I ought to be. I mean with every forbidden food and week after week of no exercise I am secretly reveling in it. I love ice cream and pizza and ooey gooey brownies oh my. I cannot tell a lie. Gawd, those things make salads and veggies and lean healthy chicken pale in comparison and if you think other wise you need to check yourself or at least be honest with yourself that being fit and thin is kinda boring.
I read magazine and websites (and even an occasional book) about how to lose weight and it is really very simple. Eat a certain kind of diet and exercise (and thinking about exercise does not really count... aww shucks...) Really the truth of the matter, the real honest to god feelings I have - if I work my ass of to lose the weight and then turn around and get pregnant, I will just gain all the weight back plus some and four years from now you will be reading this very same damned post.
Now I know you are thinking but it does not have to be that way and I could not agree more. When I started pregnancy with Matthew I totally believed that to be pregnant did not mean gaining weight. How naive of me! Because it does not ... if you are freakin' hard core. And I did/do not have the time or energy to be that way. I did work out from time to time but I did what was best for my body through out the pregnancy. If I was tired, I slept. If I needed a break from working out, I did. When they told me I was under weight when I started the pregnancy, I brilliantly gained 40 lbs (granted some of that was water weight gain, for real.)
I am not a celebrity on top of all of this. I will not be modelling swim wear or running a bloody marathon after having a baby. Ever. I will be breast feeding my ass off and eating. And probably not exercising. And so here we are 27 months later, I am still 15 (maybe 20 - who's counting?!) pounds overweight. After pounding down the last of my Hagen Daas last evening and trying to grow a couch off my ass while watching riveting Hell's Kitchen and other trashy TV, I know a change is in order. I know I feel terrible a lot of the time because I am not being healthy but changing is so gosh darned hard.
I laugh because people have said do it for Matthew. Yeah, like Matthew cares about the size of derrière. He does not and never will. AND I know I should be setting a good example and I do. In front of Matthew I hardly ever eat junk food. It is the super secret after bed time eating that is killing me so I am setting a good example for Matthew by eating healthy with him and around him and we play and walk and run and jump - I am not FAT by any stretch of the imagination. This is about me. Not Matthew. I want to lose the weight for me. I want to selfishly fit back into my size 4 pants before I have to slip back into maternity wear (about 45 seconds after becoming pregnant from what I understand from those mommies who have had a 2nd pregnancy).
Next week, when my colleague, Dan, returns from vacation I will be joining him at Weight Watchers. I figure I need to start somewhere and doing it on my own is not working any more. Weight Watchers will remind about portion size and I will have to report to a higher authority - the all mighty PUBLIC scale. It is my final attempt at weight lose and getting fit before considering that SECOND baby. If I do not lose the weight, it will be okay. I will live and laugh and just not eat as much as the first time around and if I do, I will enjoy all of it because that is what pregnancy is all about - enjoying the process without feeling bad because the end product is a healthy, happy bouncing bundle of (GIRL) baby joy!