I've been feeling fat lately. Okay, not just feeling - by evidence of the mirror, I AM fat. Not everywhere, mind you - my wrists and my ankles aren't so bad. It's just my upper arms, thighs, waist (or what used to be a waist and is now just a pile of loose flesh leading up to squishy flesh), and even my back, which now sports cellulite.
Brian, the ever-adoring husband that he is, thinks I look fine. However, in an attempt to make me feel better about myself last night, he uttered the word "blubber". Is there any context of that word that could possibly make a gal feel like she shouldn't run down to the kitchen and perform a tummy-tuck on herself with the kitchen knife?
Now I know, I should cut myself some slack. I just had a baby 12.5 weeks ago. But I have been getting on the treadmill since Noah was three days old and doing ab workouts like they're going out of style. In the first week or two post-partum I lost about 20 of the 34 pounds I had gained, but then I got stuck and the scale didn't move for weeks and weeks. Could it have had anything to do with the nightly batches of M&M cookies-on-top-of-ice-cream, or the daily waffles for breakfast? Didn't think so.
About a year ago I made a vow to myself that I would be in the best shape of my life when I turn 30. Problem is, that's in 14 days. And even though I didn't know at the time that I would get pregnant, I am still holding myself to that vow. I know, I should prepare for disappointment.
At any rate, 4 weeks ago I cut out the M&M cookies, limited myself to 2 desserts a week, and waffles 2 times a week. Then the waffle iron broke, which was quite obviously the hand of God. I lost about 4 or 5 more pounds, but then I've been stuck with 9 more to go for a while.
So I have two weeks and 9 pounds to go. Think I can do it? Probably not, since the other night I lifted my friend's 10-pound dumbbell and just about ripped my arm off doing 10 curls. Oh well, a girl can dream.