So here it is, one and a half weeks into my “official” postpartum weightless journey and I am already STUCK at a weight.
Like, one would think that having had a baby less than three weeks ago, my body would still be dropping the pounds like its hot, and yet … my body is holding onto them like I am some sort of middle-age peasant who’s been starved yet still needs the reserves to run from the British. It stores this excess like it’s going out of style because HEAVEN forbid I not have two dozen rolls around my midsection and under my chin!
All joking aside, this morning I woke up, walked over to the bathroom, stripped down to my skivvies and stepped on the scale.
Almost two weeks ago I “started” at 208 lbs, down almost 30lbs from the height of this pregnancy, and at a point where I figured I would still see some early gains … or losses as it were.
Last Monday, I did my pre-scale ritual *including making sure my darling daughter was well fed* and I stepped on the scale to see 205 lbs!
WAHOO!
That meant that my FIRST victory, over a weekend, was a release of 3 whole pounds! I was thrilled and I started my weightless journey on the right foot.
Problem was, I didn’t really start with passion, I didn’t START with a plan, and I didn’t do my best to set myself up for success. Instead, I took to the old ways, we ate what we wanted, we dined out twice at greasy fast food joints, and I snacked in the evenings on toast with peanut butter. I didn’t pick up a water bottle, I made no attempt at working out, and I figured I would still see success because my body was still in the adjusting phase of this postpartum journey.
What a LAUGH that was!
My body, after having done this gig four previous times, must have split a gut laughing at this stupidity. I mean, you cannot simply do the same thing you’ve been doing and expect a different result. Any personal development book will tell you that. It’s like basic “change your life” philosophy.
Basically, I am a self proclaimed psychopath if I continue to do the same thing day in and day out and expect the outcome to be different. That is the definition of insanity.
And yet, there I was. Stepping onto the scale this morning after a week and a bit of doing the same old gig, HOPING that there would be an exciting drop in the number … I mean, I should be less than 200 pounds by now, hello one-derland, and yet the scale told no lies.
204.8
I mean, I guess that is an improvement. A whole .2 pounds that could very well have been a result of the well timed bowl movement or the extra feeding my daughter partook in overnight.
Never the less, I saw the number and thought, “GIRL, you have to get your act together!”
I thought, “WOMAN, you can’t do this without changing things. Without living with the goal in mind.”
– Healthy
– Active
– Confident
– Attractive
I knew I needed to dig in, that five pregnancies in as many years, almost 100 pounds of weight tacked onto my body over the duration, that the constant up and down of my BMI changed the name of the game. I had to be HONEST with myself that I hadn’t retained the strength in my muscles to see the muscle memory return with the first curl or crunch, that I had obliterated my core with each baby, and that I had ALLOWED myself to build unhealthy food relationships in the name of “well, I’m pregnant so it’s ok.”
I had to stand at the scale, almost two weeks into a journey that should be “easy” at the beginning, having only lost 0.2 pounds, and ADMIT that I needed to make choices that would not be easy.
And so I considered some of the easier shifts that I could make immediately to help see improvement.
The first was so obvious, I needed to get back to drinking my water. My almost 4 letres of water everyday. I needed to fill my water bottle, my mason jars, my WHATEVER it was, with enough water to allow my body to get rid of toxins effectively.
The second, I needed to stop snacking. Stop popping by the kitchen to grab a granola bar, a cookie, a couple slices of toast with peanut butter and jam. I needed to stop filling the boredom with food, the stress with a snack, the tired eyes with temptation and treats. Instead, I needed to look for healthier meal options that would sustain me through the day, I needed to plan the breaks or the treats such that they provided healthy options, I needed to be willing to be “hungry” until my next meal until my body recognized that the hunger was mere habit and was not serving the goals.
I needed to admit, and I am still swallowing this one, that my body is not as efficient as it once was. I can’t eat a Big Mac meal with an upsized fries, a Coke and a six pack of nuggets anymore (I LITERALLY had this every shift when I was a teenager), nor should I. To be honest, I can’t even THINK about having it or else my body rebels and I gain weight!
*seriously, it’s a thing*
I needed to admit that my childish approach to food was causing my body to be fatigued beyond the normal “new mom” stuff, that I was holding onto weight because I wasn’t providing my body with fuel but filler, and that I had to say goodbye to some staples in order to reach the goal and change my life (and the life of my husband and children because #collateraldamage).
And so, while today was just the first day of building in these better habits with slow and steady improvements, I am confident that, with each passing day and each reminder of what the end goal is, there will be success. Each time I consider my options, forgo the breads and opt for more veggies, more fresh, more REAL … each choice to step closer to my goal will see progress, success, a gaining of strength and confidence, a building of new habits and go to’s, so that *eventually* the choice to be healthier, to feel more energized, to live HAPPIER, won’t even seem like a choice.
The thing with any journey is that each step either brings us closer to the goal or it takes us further away. Each decision we make will strengthen our resolve or remind us of how easy it is to fail … we can stay firmly planted where we are, uncomfortable and unhappy, OR we can do things to change our trajectory. We can work everyday to progress.
That’s what I am doing.
Progressing.
Gaining strength in my body and my determination to succeed. To find myself again, under this baby weight, and to flourish with the renewed passion and zest of a mom who thought the birth of her daughter would be the death of her.
So here’s to the simple starts and the progress, to drinking more water, eating less bread, enjoying vegetables and learning to meal plan.
