Trimming the fat

Girl you look good, won't you back that thing up? You'se a big fine woman, won't you back that thing up?

When I was just a young chit in my early 20s with naught a care in the world, I used to *love* to exercise. 5 AM Yoga then an evening workout followed by a 3 mile run surewhynot?  My body was sick, y'all.  But then I caught a husband and stopped caring for awhile, my body went a little soft, I got pregnant, had a baby, got depressed and got fat.  Really fat.  I mean, I'm not going to call anyone out, but I was told on one occasion that my legs looked like redwoods.  

When I quit feeling sorry for myself and started losing weight, I got back into exercise.  Don't get me wrong, I have never gotten back to that crazy young thing who could workout for 2 or 3 hours in a 24 hour period.  It's more like my husband gets home and I drag myself up the stairs to do a half hour on the treadmill or a workout DVD while I question why on Earth I'm doing it again.  Isn't "chasing a toddler around" and breastfeeding enough to do it like all the magazines would have you believe? Ummm, not for me.  I need to lose at least 15 (I wouldn't complain about 20) pounds, and maintain it for some time, before I get pregnant again. Some women can absolutely be overweight and be totally healthy.  But for me, my blood pressure and weight are closely related.  My pressures are awesome the less I weigh, and I need my pressures to remain low for me to remain low risk.  So I suck it up and I do it.  Plus, my pressures immediately after working out are about what I would expect if I were comatose--it's pretty awesome.

And sometimes, when I'm really getting into it, I start shadow boxing and pretend I'm duking it out with my fears.  Think that's weird?  Wait until I write them down on paper, suspend them from the ceiling in front of the treadmill so I can actually punch them.  

My primary focus used to be hitting a magic number--be it a weight or a size of clothing.  But midwifery care--at least the awesome care I got--has this crazy side effect....making you feel ridiculously good about yourself. Imagine going to a meeting with girlfriends every month (then two weeks, then weekly) and spending an hour hearing how fabulous you look, how your skin is glowing, your body is strong and healthy and how pretty you are.  It's awesome, y'all.  Those 7 pounds you put on?  You wear them better than any other pregnant woman in the history of the Universe.  

So now, it's not about those tiny little jeans I kept as a reminder from my youth, but about being as healthy as I can be for myself, T, A and E.  So, I'll keep dragging myself up those stairs at least 3 (working up to 4, and then hopefully 5 and 6!) times a week, putting in my half hour, visualizing my perfect birth and kicking the crap out of my tigers as I go.