Banishing the Baby Belly: Week 3

This week...was not a stellar week. Not only did I eat out several times, I also neglected to exercise. At all. Why? No good reason. Lots of excuses, but no good reasons.

I was in a bad mood.

Had lots of work to do.

Was just plain tired.

And now I'm sick.

Like I said, no good excuses. As a result, I lost a disappointing .2 pounds. Which is better than a gain, but not much better. This week, though, will be a better week. It has to be. At least this cold of mine is taking my appetite away...no temptation to overeat this weekend (we'll call that the silver lining).


So. My challenge for this week. I think, given my current energy level, I'll keep it simple. I challenge myself to exercise at least three times, even if that only means walking along with Leslie Sansone. I'm also going to continue to scour the Internet for a treadmill—somewhere, someone has to have a decent one to sell, right? Because full-price, fresh-from-the-store treadmills are not in the budget.


Maybe my second challenge should be to play the lottery at least once.  Someone has to win, right?


Anyway, that's all for me. How did you guys do?

Discouraged.

It's getting cold around here. Which, means, obviously, it's time to break out the fall clothes. So, this morning, I was rooting through the closet, trying to find something (anything) to wear. The results were dismal.

My skinny jeans laughed at me.

My favorite blazer refused to button.

My button down shirts? Likewise.

And my favorite purple shirtdress from the last time I was heavy? Gaped wildly in the boobage area.

It was discouraging, people.

I'm tired of being fat. Tired of feeling frumpy. Tired of looking at my floofy belly and thinking, that can't possibly be mine. I want to go to bed and wake up magically 30 pounds lighter. I don't want to have to do all this work.

Why can't I be one of those women who pop out a baby and go back to looking normal six weeks later?

Why aren't I more motivated to get up at 5:30 a.m. and exercise?

Why am I having such a hard time giving up cookies?

I hate this. Today, I hate myself.

That is all.

Banishing the Baby Belly: Week 2

Well, here we are. One full week into the Banishing the Baby Belly challenge. How did you guys do?

I did...surprisingly well. Somehow, I managed to lose 1.6 pounds. Which, granted, isn't a huge loss, but given the fact that I've been PMSing up a storm, ate more than my share of brownies and belatedly learned that a ham salad sandwich from Honey Baked Ham was good for almost 20 (!!!) points, I'll take it.

I'm pretty sure it was the exercise that made the difference. I managed to move my bones four times this week (which is four times more than they've moved in the last two months). And that, I've always found, melts the pounds away faster than anything else.

This week's challenge? To make good on my promise to actually go. to. the. gym. It's not that hard, I know. But somehow? It is.

That's it for me. Your turn!

Mmmmmm, Chocolate.

So, the diet was going well. All week long, I've been counting points, eating right and exercising (still haven't made it to the gym though). Then PMS hit.

So I had a big, heaping plate of ravioli in tomato cream sauce for dinner. And then?

And then I ate a brownie. Smothered in chocolate peanut butter cup ice cream. Not the low fat kind, either.

But you know what? It was worth every deliciously sinful point.

Some days just demand chocolate. Lots and lots and lots of chocolate.

And that's my confession for the evening. Now I'm going to take myself up to bed, so all those yummy, chocolatey calories can find their place on my hips.

Tomorrow, after all, is another day. And the battle between me and my belly can resume. But for now? I call a truce.

Gym? I Never Said I Was Going to the Gym.

Today did not mark the day that I darkened the doors of my gym once again, unfortunately. I don't even have a really good excuse. Except for the overpowering skunk smell that currently permeates my home (and, I'm afraid, my person).

After battling that, I simply didn't have the energy.

What I did have the energy for? Two glasses of wine (well, I'm currently drinking the second). But don't worry, I'm counting the points. I also had time to catch up with my bestest buddy in the whole world...via facebook.

Yes, I could have picked up the phone, but a facebook chat is better than nothing (love ya, babe).

But tomorrow. Tomorrow I really am going to the gym. I'm going to pack my bag in the morning and stick it in my car, so I can go straight from work. Because once home? And surrounded by my family? It's much, much harder to go back out.

Especially when the place I'm going out to will make me hurt. And sweat. And not in a good way.

What? Get your minds out of the gutter!

Excuse Me While I Pat Myself on the Back.

Guess what? I worked out on my lunch hour today. Oh yes I did! Now I don't have to feel guilty when I crash in front of CSI Miami tonight instead of tieing on the running shoes.

Not that I went running. I wasn't quite that ambitious. But I did pop in a Leslie Sansone DVD. Yes, I did say Leslie Sansone, of Walking Away the Pounds fame. Go ahead and laugh. I know that's not as "cool" as say, the 30 Day Shred. But it kicks my butt just well enough to make me feel like I've worked out, without making me too overheated and gross to go back to work.

Tomorrow, I'm going to venture back inside the gym for the first time in, I don't know, a year? I'm a little afraid that the little membership card scanner is going to laugh at me when I slide my ID under it. But, it's never going to get easier. And my thighs will get jigglier if left to themselves.

But that's tomorrow. Right now I'm going to go work on my butt groove in the couch. Cheers!

One Big Reason You Should Never Quit Exercising.

In the spring of 2008, I was in stellar shape. I went to the gym regularly. Could run four, maybe five miles no sweat (actually, there was a lot of sweat. I'm a sweater. But it wasn't hard). And my arms? Well, they wouldn't have given Madonna a run for her money, but one coworker actually said, "Damn, Amber, you've got guns!"

Yeah, I was proud of those.

Then I got pregnant. And while I started off thinking I'd keep up my regular workouts, it wasn't long until they fell by the wayside. Because when your body becomes a baby's home? Everything gets...well, the word I want to use isn't very nice (it begins with an f), so let's just say everything becomes damned uncomfortable.

Nine weeks in I gave up running because doing so made my back feel like it was coming apart. Then I gave up yoga because it got to danged hard to bend. And getting to the gym for those regular workouts? Never happened. Not once after I found out I was knocked up.

And you know why giving that up was a bad idea? Well, one, because obviously now I look like this (i.e. white whale walking). But more importantly, because starting over HURTS LIKE HELL.

Internet, I hardly slept last night. Every muscle in my body was screaming in protest. I expected my legs to hurt. But I didn't realize my back, arms and even neck would follow suit. I felt like I'd let a professional boxer use me as a punching bag.

So today? No exercise happened. Well, actually, I did some housework, which according to Weight Watchers counts, but that was it. But tomorrow, tomorrow I have to make myself do it. I have to soldier on.

Because the only way to the other side? The side where the hotness lives? Is through the pain.