Six months later, and I'm feeling fat.
Well, not FAT, exactly. But not at my fighting weight, that's for sure. Not feeling so good about the ol' muffin tops, over here, I'll say that much.
Violet will be six months old on Friday. Unbeleievable, I know. It's been six rich, sinful, glorious months of coffee with cream, second helpings, dessert almost every night and full fat mayo. Six months of cream line yogurt, bacon, D'Affanois and beer, served up with a steaming hot sidedish of guilt-free justification: Hey, I just had a baby, I deserve this cheesecake! I'm a nursing mother - keep the chips and salsa coming, waitress!
But blogging about Hazel's third birthday recently, I found myself scrolling through hundreds of photos of her as a baby, just reliving those early days, and I was surprised at how much thinner I was when Hazel was Violet's age (although I still felt fat, of course - it's the American way). It seems silly to say this at the ripe old age of 29, but in the three years since having Hazel, I've noticed how much my body has shifted. Things just look and feel different, somehow. Some things are a little jiggly, some a little poofy, some are just plain scary, and everything is just bigger.
I feel gross, most days. I don't like being this size. But the truth of it is, I haven't done shit about it. I eat pretty healthfully, I think, although my diet could certainly be improved, I'm sure. But I have a really hard time motivating myself to exercise - it's not really something I like to do. Getting up and exercising in the morning doesn't really appeal to me, because it's the morning - it's cold, and I'm groggy and I want a nice, hot cup of strong coffee to wake me up, not a skintight jogging bra to cut my circulation off, and remind me of when my boobs were a more managable size. And forget exercising at night - by four p.m. I'm exhausted. By seven p.m. I feel like the Crypt Keeper, bleary, bitchy, and standing on the verge of a nervous breakdown. How is it possible that I'm this size, when I never get to sit down, I never get to finish a meal, and I'm always running around like a nutjob? It's one of those things about motherhood that no one ever tells you-- you'll run yourself ragged browbeating the children, but you'll still need to carve out time in your day to exercise if you ever want to fit back into those prepregnancy jeans sitting on the bottom shelf of your closet, mocking your fat ass like a school boy.
Most of what bugs me about being this size is that I don't feel strong. I don't feel healthy, or energetic. I don't really care if my butt's a little bigger than it used to be. Since concieving, growing, birthing and nursing two babies, I have attained a much deeper, much greater respect and admiration for my body than I've ever had in my life. It's done some pretty amazing things the last few yars. I'm okay with looking more like the woman I am, and less like the girl I was. And I'm okay with the fact that I don't look like those freaks in Vogue magazine - I don't feel like I have to fit a certain mold in order to feel, or look, attractive. I just need to feel strong again, and my body needs to stretch, to realign itself, and to release a lot of tension. Daily.
So, I figure I'll start out slowly, by walking the dog every night. Maybe some sun salutations when I wake up. Then maybe I'll walk her once in the morning and at night - goodness knows Zoe could use more exercise too. A couple of months of good, hard, fast walking and maybe I'll be ready take up yoga again, although I must say, I'm a more than a little apprehensive about the... um... sound effects... that my bod will be contributing to class after two vaginal childbirths. *SHUDDER*
After a couple of months of regular exercise, I should be able to approach the fancy-pants digital scale that Mike's mom just gave us, without hurling. I'm not ready for that right now, though; I want to focus on my activity level to start, not my weight. We'll see how far that gets me.
So au revoir, coffee with cream! Fare-the-well, Halloween candy! I'm turning over a new leaf.
Violet will be six months old on Friday. Unbeleievable, I know. It's been six rich, sinful, glorious months of coffee with cream, second helpings, dessert almost every night and full fat mayo. Six months of cream line yogurt, bacon, D'Affanois and beer, served up with a steaming hot sidedish of guilt-free justification: Hey, I just had a baby, I deserve this cheesecake! I'm a nursing mother - keep the chips and salsa coming, waitress!
But blogging about Hazel's third birthday recently, I found myself scrolling through hundreds of photos of her as a baby, just reliving those early days, and I was surprised at how much thinner I was when Hazel was Violet's age (although I still felt fat, of course - it's the American way). It seems silly to say this at the ripe old age of 29, but in the three years since having Hazel, I've noticed how much my body has shifted. Things just look and feel different, somehow. Some things are a little jiggly, some a little poofy, some are just plain scary, and everything is just bigger.
I feel gross, most days. I don't like being this size. But the truth of it is, I haven't done shit about it. I eat pretty healthfully, I think, although my diet could certainly be improved, I'm sure. But I have a really hard time motivating myself to exercise - it's not really something I like to do. Getting up and exercising in the morning doesn't really appeal to me, because it's the morning - it's cold, and I'm groggy and I want a nice, hot cup of strong coffee to wake me up, not a skintight jogging bra to cut my circulation off, and remind me of when my boobs were a more managable size. And forget exercising at night - by four p.m. I'm exhausted. By seven p.m. I feel like the Crypt Keeper, bleary, bitchy, and standing on the verge of a nervous breakdown. How is it possible that I'm this size, when I never get to sit down, I never get to finish a meal, and I'm always running around like a nutjob? It's one of those things about motherhood that no one ever tells you-- you'll run yourself ragged browbeating the children, but you'll still need to carve out time in your day to exercise if you ever want to fit back into those prepregnancy jeans sitting on the bottom shelf of your closet, mocking your fat ass like a school boy.
Most of what bugs me about being this size is that I don't feel strong. I don't feel healthy, or energetic. I don't really care if my butt's a little bigger than it used to be. Since concieving, growing, birthing and nursing two babies, I have attained a much deeper, much greater respect and admiration for my body than I've ever had in my life. It's done some pretty amazing things the last few yars. I'm okay with looking more like the woman I am, and less like the girl I was. And I'm okay with the fact that I don't look like those freaks in Vogue magazine - I don't feel like I have to fit a certain mold in order to feel, or look, attractive. I just need to feel strong again, and my body needs to stretch, to realign itself, and to release a lot of tension. Daily.
So, I figure I'll start out slowly, by walking the dog every night. Maybe some sun salutations when I wake up. Then maybe I'll walk her once in the morning and at night - goodness knows Zoe could use more exercise too. A couple of months of good, hard, fast walking and maybe I'll be ready take up yoga again, although I must say, I'm a more than a little apprehensive about the... um... sound effects... that my bod will be contributing to class after two vaginal childbirths. *SHUDDER*
After a couple of months of regular exercise, I should be able to approach the fancy-pants digital scale that Mike's mom just gave us, without hurling. I'm not ready for that right now, though; I want to focus on my activity level to start, not my weight. We'll see how far that gets me.
So au revoir, coffee with cream! Fare-the-well, Halloween candy! I'm turning over a new leaf.
posted by Alisyn at 7:05 PM
4 Comments:
First of all, YOU ARE NOT FAT. Secondly, YOU ARE NOT EVEN A LITTLE PUDGY. I know this because I am fat. Technically obese. Ugly word isn't it. However, it does make me rather the authority on fat and lack thereof. So, you are not fat. A little jiggle can be tightened quickly enough with a little yoga or a little pilates. And Bacon what the heck, I thought you were a veggie. LOL. Regardless of your food choices, your jiggliness, and your weird perception of your body. I will say now and forever, that you are lovely Aly. Truly beautiful inside and out. Do what makes you feel best, but do not for one moment think you are less than amazing. HUGS-- Debbi
Hi Alisyn, As you are probably aware, there are so many junk filled blogs. As I was searching for diet does patch work related information today, it was a nice break from the 'usual' to come across your blog. I am happy I searched for diet does patch work related ideas today. Thanks.
OK. I have experience in this area. Eating while standing and taking care of kids just makes the weight fall into your hips or belly. No detours. You need to run in circles to prevent that. Oh, you do, I forgot. OK another try, How about... taking time to actually sit down to a meal in a calm adult manner. Oh, yeah, the kids. Never mind. Just enjoy your youth while you have it. It all goes down-hill at 40 anyway.
And A Link Back To Your Web Site Excite You?
Post a Comment
<< Home