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This summer has been a real test of self-esteem for me. I don’t know what my problem is, but I never got around to buying a new bathing suit, so I’ve continued to wear the two-piece I’ve had for a few years. If we’re being completely honest, it’s not a good look. The top is stretched out from my boobs going from their 27-year old glory, to ginormous first time nursers, to slightly less ginormous second pregnancy/nursing vessels, to something that only vaguely resembles what I remember them to be.
“You know, when I was 22, my breasts were like right about there. Nice and perky. Gravity has taken them (sigh) to there. It’s like 22…28…22…28.”
It’s also not a tankini or a one piece, so my stomach is all out there. Now, look. For having two kids I guess it looks pretty decent. But I’m so NOT comfortable with it. When I’m standing in front of the mirror I’m all, alright. Not bad, lady. Looking good. And then one day I was on my hands and knees playing on the floor with the kids and I happened to notice my stomach looked like a weirdly deflated donut. My eyes pretty much fell out of my head. Where did THAT come from? I decided to only stand up for the rest of my life.
I’ve spent most of the summer either wearing a tank top over my suit, or strategically placing a child in front of me until I can get in the water. The most ridiculous part is that in truth, no one is looking at me or judging me except myself. At least, I hope not. But yet…
After Owen was born I dropped all the weight in just four months. By the time he was a year I had lost so much (too much), that I was in a size I hadn’t seen since I was 16. And the thing of it is, I didn’t have to really do anything do get there. It just happened. My postpartum body wasn’t the same, but it was pretty close. The second time around was TOTALLY DIFFERENT. After Ryan, the weight loss crawled at such a slow pace that I realized I wasn’t going to be so fortunate again. This time I would have to work at it. I joined a gym, started running and after nine months got back down to my happy weight. Then summer came and I put my membership on hold because I figured I would be outdoors and could keep up the exercise that way.
I chase the kids around, yeah. But exercise? Real exercise? I haven’t done that in three months. Which is why, despite my weight being where I want it to be, my abs have just surrendered into Mom Tummy.
The short-term solution would have been to just buy a new suit. And while I should probably still do that, I will know the donut is lurking beneath that thin layer of lyrca-spandex. And so I decided enough was enough. For real. No more pseudo-exercising. No amount of wishing it away, or sucking it in, or hiding it beneath clothes is going to firm up my stomach. I’m going to have to work at it.
And that suuuuccckkks.
Yesterday I started The 30 Day Shred (again. Again, again. I’ve done this a handful of times but have never actually completed it. I skipped level 1 this time and plan on doing levels 2 and 3 for a little longer.), and will reinstate my gym membership this fall. I am so determined to get myself to a place where I feel confident again. My body will never be the same as it was, I know this. But I’m pretty sure I can get it to a place I can be proud of. A body I can feel comfortable in again. A body that allows me to eat a donut instead of carry one around with me. Wish me all the luck!
Exercising with children. Not always easy!