Vacation and all its bliss is over. A good time was had by all. We can't wait to go back and do it all again next year.
Today felt as if it was the first day I went back to the gym post The Comedian. I joined the gym back in January and went regularly until I decided to become a Shredhead and train for a 5k. I ignored the class schedule taped up on the fridge and never gave it a second thought. After the 5k however, I felt I needed more. Since The Comedian has officially weaned herself with a snub nose and stiff arm to my chest I figured now was the best time. I can lose my weight and get toned up again. Simple.
Heh.
Before The Comedian I took a class that was all weights for an hour and a half a few times a week and I loved it. It challenged me and totally re-shaped my form. I felt fantastic and that I looked better than before I had TD. This new gym has Body Pump. Sounds fun, huh? Each time I think of it I think, " Just pump it. Pump it up." I took a peek at it last week and wanted to hide in a corner. They weren't using free weights. They were dead lifting with bars and discs! Oh my. Unlike my former gym there were men in there too. It was positively intimidating. Throw in the fact that by the time I'm done with the class and have driven home it's lunch time and I still haven't showered. I felt totally unmotivated. The idea of using the locker room kind of throws me. I just don't dig seeing so many naked butts and sweaty tatas. And I grew up in a naked house. Everyone always seems tanner than me and I can't understand it. I'm the whitest white girl, I swear.
It took me two hours to get our gear together and get out to the door with both girls. Everyone was ready and we headed off to the gym. After depositing the girls in the Kidz Zone (why do they misspell kids stuff?!) I walked to my class. I settled in with all my discs, bar, bench and mat. The instructor picked me out in a nanosecond and forced me up front despite my, "Seriously? Why the hell?! Grr...." comment. I loathe the front. Especially when I'm such a light weight user.
Fifteen minutes in I was feeling the burn. My quads were screaming and only the thought of it increasing my running speed spurned me on. After about three minutes of triceps I noticed the front of my shirt was drenched. My hair was wet and my arms were shaking. I feared decapitation by the bar. An hour later I felt light, exhilarated and like I was going to fall down the flight of stairs to the locker room because my legs were trembling so much. My sports bra was soaked and I just wanted a shower. Old lady junk in my face be damned!
Twenty-five minutes later we were in the car and I felt complete. The stress in my shoulders that I've been harboring was gone. I'm ready to go again. I'm ready to transform myself from post-pregnant Mom body to who I used to be. It feels terrific.
Oh, and does anyone else dry their hair while completely naked? Yeah, me neither.
Allow me to climb atop my soap box for a minute.
Whew! That soap box is feeling mighty high these days... or maybe it's just my less than limber pregnant self where pants are an obstacle course just to put on these days.
A fellow blogger sent this out and I couldn't help myself. Just watch. Reflect. Know that we are all guilty as charged too.
I remember vowing to have a better body image after the birth of TD and failing miserably the first year as I dealt with a post-baby body. Then I took a much needed R&R trip out west and found that two of my dear friends are just as bad as me and haven't even had kids. It gave me a lot to think about and I vowed again with a new ferocity to just focus on being healthy and happy with what God gave me.
My body, while not 19 anymore or even 24, is healthy and strong. It will only get stronger after I pop out Dash Two and resume my love for the gym and running. Oh, running, how I miss you... especially this time of year. You make me feel so powerful, clean and strong. Able to tackle anything and wanting to fill my body with only good-for-you foods. When I know I'm being good to my body and letting it be all it can be I am at my best and I don't worry about how I look because I know I'm looking my best.
I don't compare myself to magazines because, pfftt... we all know the wonders of photoshop and airbrushing. We KNOW that celebrities have way more help to look that good than we do and if we just stop and think we KNOW in our hearts that there are tricks of the trade they are employing when they step outside their front doors- yes, girdles, I'm talking about SPANX and more, ladies.
So I'm vowing again to be better about this whole body image issue. I'm healthy. I'm doing the best I can and I have the power to become stronger and healthier even. I won't degrade myself or my thighs anymore. I'll only encourage myself and you should too. I owe it to TD, Dash Two and to myself most of all. Let's stop beating ourselves up over this and just be healthy in mind and body!
After I had my suspicious mole last summer I was told by some that the bikini would be no more. At least for me. I balked at this. When the comment was quickly followed by the classic, "Besides you are a Mom now. You don't want to be one of those Moms who you see at the pool wearing a bikini...."
Excuse me what?! I wanted to breathe fire.
While I may not have the body I did when I was 24, I have spent a fare share of my time at the gym toning and cardioing my butt off well into my 30's and not just because I want to look swimsuit ready but because I like how I feel after a good episode of sweating. I refuse to go up a size with each child. Yes, I had a child and my body changed but I'm still a size six! I'm proud of that fact. Quite frankly I don't feel comfortable in a one piece. I'm long in the torso and I suspect that walking around the pool with a case of massive camel toe would be a bit worse than if I wore a two-piece and my thighs don't look like that of a 12 year-old girl or baby giraffe.
Besides, has anyone seen some of the teens at the pool lately? I hate to say it, but um... they could do with a dose of gym time and the total overhaul and tearing down of a body that pregnancy can do. Some of them need some tough gym love. I don't feel quite so bad about myself when I see that my stomach is far flatter after one kid than some of the teenage girls at the pool or even the lifeguards. So why can't I rock that bikini I ask?
Another thing while I'm at it, because for some reason I don't see this so much in my neck of the woods. I'm sort of small but curvy girl. I'm 4.5 months pregnant but my stomach is like a cantaloupe right now. I tried on that giant tent of a maternity swim suit. I bought it with good intentions. You know the kind that is supposed to mimic a tankini? No, I don't even wear that no matter how many times I'm told I could by other Moms. I loathe that wet suit feel on my stomach and I have abs - I'm showing them off dammit! That suit made me feel like a giant crow. I was covered and looked about 40 pounds heavier. I dug out my two-piece and felt much more comfortable. Yes, I was glaringly white and might have blinded a pool patron or two that first outing, but I was happy to note that for the first time I was asked when I was due by even the clueless male lifeguards. I was told by some of the rather nice Moms out there that I looked terrific and amazing too.
Now if that doesn't help a pregnant woman out what does?
And that's my rant in favor of the bikini.
Here I am in Jamaica seven months after having T.D. It's not a full body shot but it is the best I could do. Now really? Granted I'm much 'rounder' now but I still stand by my right to wear a bikini.
This post was written for Parent Bloggers Network as part of a sweepstakes sponsored by BOCA and their new Balanced Living group. It is all about eating better and living better, bikini lover or not.
Nine pounds. Nine. (Is anyone else hearing Mr. Rooney's voice besides me?)Possibly ten. In a matter of weeks I've managed to put on that amount of weight.
Aching knees
Real half and half not the fat free kind
A dose or fifteen of heavy cream
Whipped cream
Endless batches of brownies, scones, and cookies to review. I had no choice but to eat them. It's a hazard I now realize with this job.
Fried cheese, fries, chips, chicken, fried WHATEVER all delightfully crammed into my piehole. Wild abandon was definitely there.
Ice cream
A metric ton of cheese
Stiff joints
Loss of flexibility
All add up to those 9-10 pounds. DO NOT email me saying I shouldn't berate myself. It is my own fault after all. Some people can gain that weight and be fine. My small frame does not allow that to be so. Especially after birthin' a baby. The jiggle factor is not to be believed. Those pictures of Britney Spear's cellulite ridden tushie only help just so much.
So it is here Internets that I will make a vow. I will lose those nine pounds plus one if I'm lucky (we all know after 30 it is harder than ever to lose an inch) and be more ready to take on the summer bathing suit just as it comes to a close. I'll track my progress for you all while I wait for this guy's people to work out the details of our product review. I will do it the right way too. Diet and exercise and not in the total extreme. Just enough extreme to break a sweat. Come August 30th I'll weigh in and we'll see how I do.
Anyone want to join me?
What if I said-
It's not the media that kills and distorts our image of a healthy woman's body. What if I said it's us. Ourselves. We just aren't working hard enough. We skip the gym, eat a donut and then feel guilty. Is that the media slapping your wrist or yourself? Are we just using the media as an excuse for our own lack of motivation and what we see as our own failure to achieve a certain look? The body image in our brain or the one in US Weekly? Which comes first?
We choose to look the way we do. Cellulite can't always be helped. Neither can stretch marks or breast shape. The extra 10-50 lbs you are carrying? What if I said that is on you. If we are unhappy with how we look the onus is on us to change it. I hate my thighs. I could change them if I worked hard enough, ate better and such. I CHOOSE to skip the gym or eat that fourth slice of pizza. I choose brie. When I bitch and moan about the state of my rear, it's on me. My fault if I don't like it or can't accept it. It's all on me as to whether or not I LET that bother me. I'm not blaming Hollywood for making me feel bad about my ass.
Should the media play up all those "healthy" women and capture more images of stick figures with huge breasts? No, but mainly because we're sick of it. Then again, we CHOOSE to buy those magazines and watch all those brain-rotting shows. If we chose not to, well they would have to go somewhere like the closest landfill am I right?
Less bitching, more choosing I say. Oh yeah, and pass me more brie my ass is hungry.