This is getting hard, y’all. This changing my perspective thing. Like, way hard.
I stepped on the scale this morning and read the following number which will likely make me want to cry.
199.
I know, I know. It isn’t supposed to be about the number, and really? It’s not. I mean, it is, but it isn’t.
It IS, however, about how I don’t feel any different except for in my legs and butt. Which is awesome, until I can’t button my pants because of the mom gut hanging out there that is.not.going.away.at.all. And for whatever reason, I can’t seem to get out of my classroom before 4:15 each day which means I’m not making it to the gym until 4:25 and I can’t stand to leave Joshua in daycare for 10 hours a day so I rush through 30 minutes on the elliptical and fly out the door to go pick up my boy.
(What exactly is it I’m doing on the elliptical? It isn’t running. Or walking in place. Or jogging. Thus, I’m calling it “elliping” henceforward.)
And then when we get home, I feel all sorts of Mom Guilty because I could’ve picked him up sooner and come home and cooked a meal that we could all sit down and eat as a family thereby encouraging him to try new things, but no. I was elliping. For no results that I can see.
Grrr. Frustrations.
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And today? Because of the time change and being all “WTFISGOINGON!?” this morning, I’ve forgotten my sports bra. And I do NOT work out without one of those bad boys to strap the girls in their locked and semi-upright positions for the duration of the elliping.
The not frustrating thing? I feel GOOD when I ellip for 30 minutes. I get in the car all flush-faced and I want to take pictures to share the glory I feel radiating from my body. (But it does not LOOK as glorious as it feels, so? No pics.)
I’ve reached a point where once I get there, I like that I’m there. I LOVE that I’m there. I love that I’m doing something that is only for me and it makes me feel good. I get all endorphin-y and YAY ME!
And then I get discouraged and think, “God, am I going to have to do this EVERY SINGLE DAY to see results? Why does that Gazelle guy say 20 minutes a day, 3 times a week when he gazelles??”
So? My goal for this week is to stay focused. And perhaps not eat a gigantor steak.
(Though it WAS my birthday and it WAS part of my birthday gift. And it WAS delicious.)
(And speaking of my birthday, go enter my giveaway, yo. Please and thank you.)
It’s just hard. Weight. Working out. Dieting. Fitting in clothes. It’s all just hard. For some people I guess it isn’t? But for me. It’s an every day battle, or journey, or something. It has to be every day. Because when it isn’t I make a batch of brownies with hot fudge & caramel and I eat the whole thing myself!!!
It’s so hard. And now I want brownies. Guess I’ll settle for a yogurt instead.
You realize that within your post, you found the solution yourself. You described that feeling you get while you’re elliping (love that!) and afterwards. I’ve had my own long journey with PPD/OCD-Anxiety and what I’m learning in the last 3 years is that it’s not about being results-focused, it’s about the doing. In my case I’ve committed to doing yoga and believe me it’s hard to look at all of those young, bendy, non-Mommy bodies flit from pose to pose as if they were performers in Cirque de Soleil. I was getting super frustrated. And then suddenly what occurred to me was that it was not about the outcome of going to yoga, but rather it was about the getting in there and doing of the yoga. And every day I did it, I felt great. Every day I accomplished something: a pose, a deeper breath, more calm, and sometimes just showing up. Once I realized that, I stop kvetching about my body and my looks and just felt good in my own skin and about what I was accomplishing. And that has made all the difference. Keep up the great work–you are doing it just by showing up and elliping your tushy off!!! Good for you!!!
You’re right. It’s totally about the doing. I even wrote about that last week!
It’s about going from moment to moment and DOING IT. Even when I don’t want to do it anymore.
trying to lose weight is hard. trying to find time to lose weight without feeling like a total mom/wife fail is damn near impossible. the thing is, while joshua spends a little extra time in daycare, his mom is doing something that makes her feel good. happy mom=happy baby. it’s like phermones (pheromones? forgive me, i’m illiterate) or something, just not nearly as weird and doesn’t involve a tampon.
I’ve had a horrible time losing the extra weight from my first pregnancy. It’s a combination of things, but the easiest way to say it is that I LOVE to eat and HATE to exercise. The only real success I’ve had was when I did 2 weeks (although it was supposed to be 4) of the Fit Yummy Mummy plan. I lost 2.5 pounds in 2 weeks and didn’t change what I ate. I think the site is laid out like an infomercial, but there is some great information hiding there. Like why cardio alone won’t give you the shape you want…
http://www.fityummymummy.com/
“I LOVE to eat and HATE to exercise” <—are we the same person??
I completely understand this on so many levels…keep at it and eventually, you will see results. Once the weight comes off, it’s easier to keep it off if you elliptical and watch what you eat.
I’m just waiting for that magic moment where BAM! there’s a change in the scales and in my jeans. A definite one. A little bit of magic at this point would go a long way toward keeping me motivated.
friend? the scale said 200 for me.
I shed tears.
This sucks.
At least you are ellipping. I am stuck until the schedule opens up.
I know it’s not about the numbers, but I could feel my boobs resting on my tummy and my tummy resting on my thighs yesterday when I was hunched over my lap top. The last time that happened? I was QUITE pregnant.
fark.
I felt skinny this morning and I felt like I looked slimmer in my pants. So I stepped on the scales for shits and giggles. And gained a pound yesterday.
Um, ridiculous.
And yes, it’s not about the numbers, but it IS about my clothes and how they are uncomfortable and I hate feeling my belly resting on my thighs when I sit.
Fark, indeed.
Ugh. I feel you. At least you’re GOING to the gym. I think about the gym then I break out in hives b/c of all the mirrors and the skinny college girls who look at me like “Aw, you. You’re all TRYING and stuff.” and I want to kick them and tell them I had a baby and SO WHAT IF IT WAS ALMOST TWO YEARS AGO!
Gah. Maybe I should stop thinking and just go.