Oh Internet, I'm at it again. Back when I was pregnant, I did not like my body changing. Becoming heavy and awkward, but you know, there was a baby at the end of it and so that helped immensely (at least that's what my hormone-addled brain remembers; I dare not revisit my old blog posts for confirmation because re-reading your blog posts is a uniquely excruciating form of torture). Then after Mr. Man was born and the swelling receded, stretchmarks started popping up, making matters worse.
BUT I was fortunate and lost my baby weight quickly. By fortunate I mean that my baby was a ravenous beast that sucked away all my nutrition and I'll probably get osteoporosis at an early age. On the plus side, I fit back into my pre-baby clothes, so yay to baby-led malnutrition.
THEN I got pregnant again. I don't know if this is true for everyone, or if it was influenced by the fact that I was still breastfeeding, but my body got on board the 'prepare for baby bandwagon' in a big way. As in I'm back up a pants size. Also, round ligament stretching was something my body considered a top priority and now my tummy is out there.
Now, it's one thing to gain weight and get a baby at the end. It's an entirely different thing when you gained weight, miscarried, and no one is really privy to the reason you have muffin top. Is this the worst aspect of what happened? Of course not. But in combination with major hormone fluctuations, it is not something that I'm putting on my Top 10 Awesome Things list.*
*I don't actually have a Top 10 Awesome Things list, but if I did, orgasms would totally be #1, followed closely by chocolate and toddler snuggles; not sure which of those would end up as #2.
To top this off, I was a raging hormonal mess just in time to binge on SO MUCH Halloween candy. I literally became addicted. Twix and Reese PB Cups were calling to me from the pantry at all hours. It was not a good combination. Not nearly as good as peanut butter and chocolate.
Now I'm having to take a good, hard look at myself, and the new cellulite I'm sporting. Occasionally walking the dog and doing some light yoga while watching old How I Met Your Mother episodes may not be enough. My arm muscles are great from all the toddler lifts I do all day, but my ass is giving Santa's belly a run for its money in the jiggly department.
I'm not happy with any of this. And yet, if you've ever allowed yourself to get sedentary, you know how hard it is to get off the couch. Even though I know I'll feel better if I got some exercise, that's not much of a motivator. By the end of the day, I'm tired. Also, I would rather eat chocolate covered cherries, which I can do while trying to finish up holiday cards, making it so easy to rationalize. All I get out of exercising is the need for another shower.
So, here I am, trying to motivate. I will not wait until the New Year. This is not a declaration, but a lifestyle change. (Seriously, Self, move your ass so we can lose some ass!)