Ok welcome to another edition of Wordy Whiny (and Weighty) Wednesday.

 

You may or may not remember this (depending on 1. how good your memory is and 2. if you give a damn at all) post about weight and fitness and blah blah blah (well you know not blah blah blah but close). So I’ve been doing those things I talked about. I’ve been drinking water and making sure I’m eating good (and ok I made cookies too, cause BALANCE PEOPLE, BALANCE) and I’ve been walking and cursing at doing Jillian when I can (or I should say when I prioritize it and frankly my knee is killing me soooo there’s that excuse) and the scale? Well it went up. OK that’s fine. Cause I ate pie so I asked for it. The first day of Jillian I almost DIED but by the fifth day I only felt a little like I was going to have a stroke. So that’s an improvement. BUT I’ve also been resting and crafting a little and tapping into my creative side. Oh and also I was taking care of supersickvomitingandpooping and now crabbywhinyteething baby but thankfully at least some of that has passed now. And I’ve been gardening and getting that going. Oh AND chasing the dog out of the garden so that’s exercise right? I’ve also been trying to tackle some small projects (well you know small in the grand scheme of things but not that small really) and starting new projects and checking off the list.

 

Today I decided to tackle my dresser.

 

Dun dun dun.

 

See yesterday I went to lunch with my lovely friend Staci and her super dee duper daughter Peyton and before I went I said to myself, “SELF, maybe you want to wear something besides yoga pants. Just sayin. You look like a hobo.” So I went to my dresser and found I could scarcely open it for the clothes that were SHOVED WILLY NILLY neatly folded inside. So I said to myself, after having NO success whatsoever, “Self. Add this to the list. Cause homie… this is ugly.”

 

So today at 6:15 am I dumped that whole damn thing out.

 

AND OHMYDEARLORD WHERETHEHELL DIDIGET ALLTHESECLOTHES?

It’s ugly friends and that’s just the dresser.

See I used to be skinny. Sorry to keep bringing that up but you know, it’s a valid point in the grand scheme of things since it was only like 2 years ago. (Come to think of it I may be reaching the end of the phase where I can still consider that recent. Well crap.)

Anyway.

When I was skinny (or more aptly when I was depressed) I bought a lot of clothes. I’m not particularly proud of this behavior but there it is. Some of them were, shall we say, rather pricey. OK SO WHAT if I have five pairs of Lucky Brand Jeans in size 6 and 8? They were different STYLES. :-/

 
Sigh. FIVE pair of pants I cannot, and most likely will not ever, wear. I thought I might try to sell these $100 per pair jeans on eBay but it turns out there isn’t much market for jeans that were $100 three years ago. So shit. And what did I find to wear…. Zip. Nada. Nil. Zero.

And where does this leave me you ask?

Well with an empty drawer and a frustrated brain. Of course.

Frustrated because A. I spent $100 on jeans I can’t wear (5 pair …so $500 really. Oh I feel sick.) B. And self loathing because I distinctly remember saying to myself when I lost all that weight “I’ll NEVEREVEREVEREVEREVER in a million zillion years weigh that much again.” Sigh. C. A little more self loathing because HELLO the way I got back to not fitting in my pants was by creating HUMAN LIFE. A sweet little bundle of precious joy who I absolutely cannot imagine my life without, so why am I beating myself up? (even if I could have skipped the cookies) D. And yet even more self loathing because I feel like I falsely advertised a 125 pound woman to my husband when what he ended up with was a 177 pound woman. (and yeah that’s really what I weigh so go ahead and process that number. I’m not trying to lie about it.) E. And even more self loathing for all the self loathing.

And since I’m not going to lie I’ll tell you this… when I finished cleaning out the dresser, and I had set aside the appropriate piles (one to donate, one to turn into wipes for the baby’s butt,  one for repurposing, one to save {that’s where the jeans I’ll never wear are just because I can’t sell them and dangit if I’m giving away $100 jeans}, one to give to my 15 year old {excuse me while I throw up} and one to give to Staci’s daughter) I sat down and had a good ol fashioned PMS induced tear fest. Partly for the aforementioned reasons and partly just cause I needed the emotional cleansing.

Then I talked to the Man and bent his ear for a half hour (hour?) and strangely felt even worse after that because in all love and kindness he essentially told me to get over my narcissistic self.

 

And he’s right.

 

And he said, “If you told me that you’re happy the way you are and this is the way you’re going to be for the rest of your life, I’d be perfectly happy with that because what I WANT IS FOR YOU TO BE HAPPY.”

 

And dammit he means it. And also… he’s right.

Why is it so hard for us to love ourselves? When life is beautiful and good. When we have healthy families and husbands we love. When we can walk and run and keep up with our kids. When we have healthy food and shelter. When we have essentially NOTHING to complain about. At. All.

Why do the size of the jeans in the drawer matter?

 

Does anyone out there want some $100 jeans?

 

 

body image , fitness , MEEEEEE , weight loss , wordy whiny wednesday

Weight.

 

I’ve been avoiding it. For like a hundred and twenty-seven reasons. I don’t want to talk about how much I weigh (a lot), because it’s too much (it’s a lot). Also I don’t want to talk about needing to lose weight because I need to, but I don’t really *want* to. And when I say I don’t want to, I don’t even mean I don’t want to be thinner or feel better. Because who doesn’t want that? And I don’t mean I don’t want to do the work. Because I’ve totally done it (I lost 60 pounds and went from getting winded after running 30 seconds to running 10 miles) and I know I can do it. I just haven’t really wanted to because I’m not really disgusted by my body like I used to be.

 

I blame the Man.

 

Damn him for loving me how I am. Damn damn Man.

(He’s awesome.)

 

You may have read the one where I talk about how I used to be like so super skinny. Or the one that caused all the fuss.

 

But anyway everyone has their breaking point and I have reached mine. I am at *THAT* place. The place where I don’t just see myself in photos and think, “oh yeah you’re a little chubby but that’s totally ok. Have a cookie.” I have reached the place where I see myself and think, “How can I immediately destroy this photo? And possibly the camera just to be safe.”

These are the things I know to be true:

1. There are women who lose weight while breastfeeding (Dear Women Who Lose Weight By Breastfeeding Alone, I am jealous. I won’t say I HATE you because hate is a strong strong word. But yeah. You’re lucky. That is all.) I am not one of those women. I have never been one of them even back when I was young (and could eat a cheesecake and not gain a pound) and had one baby I was not one of them. Add four babies and 16 years. It makes a difference. Oy. So breastfeeding is not enough for me. Damn. Maybe if I had triplets?

2. I am not meant to be that thin. I can say this because I’ve been THAT thin (125 pounds which is incredibly small for me) and it was almost impossible to maintain. It’s important to not apply an ideal to yourself that isn’t YOUR ideal. I cannot run 5 miles a day AND go to the gym AND ride my bike. I mean I COULD but I’d never see my children and my husband and I’d be thin but obsessed probably and it’s all about balance. I am round. I am busty. I am soft. I used to picture my 16 year old self and think, “Well that’s the ideal.” No. It’s not the ideal. I was not a grown up woman at 16. I had not given birth. I was not a mother.  I was not 36. Striving to fit into the jeans I wore in high school would just be stupid. Also, they were acid washed which was a bad bad fashion trend anyway.

3. I eat. I am not going to try to claim I starve myself and still am overweight. I’m not going to try to say “Oh i don’t eat THAT much. I must have a thyroid problem.” Because I definitely do NOT have a thyroid problem. Unless the thyroid is where your cupcake drive is. Cause then yeah, I have hypercupcakethyroidism. Like furreal.

4. I don’t have any desire to be a single digit size. Honestly. Size 10 is just fine. When I’ve lost weight in the past I immediately became so addicted to the result of the loss that I kept setting my goal lower and lower. Until eventually I was smaller than I had been since I was 15. And honestly I looked like a really muscular bobble head. It was not cute. Like at all. My husband may feel free to weigh in on this one. (He is the authority on the matter because he has seen me THAT thin. And now. I’m like a totally different person. Or two people.)

5. I like muscles. I do. But I don’t have any desire to be rock hard or bounce a quarter off my abs. I am honestly and truly in a place where I enjoy being soft and round. I actually like being a little squishy. I like that my kids memories of their mom will be that she was soft. Also my husband likes soft. And I like that. That being said I also like shapely calves and arms so squishy in the right places, muscle-y in the right places.

6. And while we’re on the topic of soft and round…I’ll just confess. I am honestly terrified to see what I’d look like if I weigh less than 150 or 155 pounds. While those numbers do not appear in the range of what is apparently ok for my height, I know (because I’ve been there) that at a certain point parts of my body start to deflate. Namely my soft underbelly and Mt. McBoobs. This point was probably around 150 pounds before I was pregnant for the fifth time. I can recall being quite upset that I was thin for all intents and purposes but my belly looked just frightening. Moms, holla. You know what I’m talking about. Anyway. I am not going to get a tummy tuck ever. SO… all this is just my longwinded way of saying I’d probably rather just have a round belly than a deflated one. This also goes for the Grand Tetons. Amen.

So what’s important:

1. Fitness is important. It’s not important that I be able to run 10 miles. But it is important that I can walk and run and chase kids around. And generally not feel like I’m going to have a cardiac arrest walking up the stairs.

2. Food is important. And healthy, fresh food even more so. Cupcakes are important too. Balance.

3. While we are on the subject of balance. Balance is important. I really am a believer in the “all things in moderation” motto. Yes that means exercise. And food. And a good Cab. And time with family. Not in that order.

 

All that being said I have set REALISTIC goals. These are things we all can and should be doing and aren’t extraordinary.  This doesn’t mean I’m trying to lose 10, 20 or 40 pounds, though ultimately I would like to lose some weight. I will weigh myself but only as a recording tool. I’ve been weighing myself almost daily (or at least weekly) since Ella was born and so far I’ve done absolutely nil with that information. So I’m not going to start to becoming scale obsessed now.

Here’s what I am capable of doing at this point. I say capable because I’m not trying to set myself up to fail. I know I can’t (nor do I want to) spend hours at the gym. I like food and my husband and I like to cook and eat together. I also like to bake. And frankly I’d rather eat cake occasionally and be a little bigger than never eat it and be a size 6. That’s my trade off. I give myself permission to love cake. So anyway… here:

1. Water. Drink it. This is so simple and yet for me so easily overlooked. I don’t love water. I know I should but I don’t. So this, while simple, really is a goal for me.

2. Fruits and veggies. Eat them. I do ok on this front but need to do better. There are plenty of fresh and dried things around to eat. So that.

3. Exercise. Do it. Right now I’m doing the 30 Day Shred again. It’s not realistic for me to say I can work out 30 minutes EVERY day, because some days I just can’t do it. But I can say 5 days a week. 30 minutes isn’t that long and I don’t have to leave the house. Also I’d aim to walk with Ella (the Man and the other kids too when they are here) at least 3 times a week for 30 minutes.

4. Sleep. Get it. You know, when I can. This is probably the number one problem most women (and men) have right now. I am SO CAPABLE of functioning of 6, 5, 4 or even less hours of sleep. That DOESN’T MEAN I SHOULD. There are so many studies that show the vast difference between 6 hours and 7.5 or greater. Honestly when I nap I feel lazy. I lay there and tally all the things I could or should do but the fact is it isn’t lazy. It’s really necessary. I lived for many years being proud of myself for functioning on 3 and 4 hours of sleep. I went through nursing school that way and I worked nights that way. There were 4 day stretches where my total sleep would equal 8 hours. In four days. That is not something to be proud of, it’s stupid. Also besides making you stupid, lack o sleep sows your metabolism making your body think it needs to protect you from some awful thing, you know, like NEVER sleeping.  So sleep.

 

This is for ME. Do I want my husband to think I’m beautiful and sexy? Yes. Do I want my kids to see their mother as fit and healthy? Yes.  But this needs to be for me. It’s very easy, especially when you have small children to get caught up in what they need, what your house needs or your husband needs or your friends need. I’m guilty of feeling guilty for being selfish but a little selfish goes a long way in being to able to do all those other things.

So there you go. That’s where I am. Not a funny today but a serious. Because it’s all about balance.

 

So what things are you doing for you?

 

fitness , self-love , serious stuff , weight loss , wordy whiny wednesday