About a year ago, I applied to participate in an article that Fitness Magazine was doing. To make a very long story short, I was passed over for that particular article but some months later was contacted by one of the editors to be a participant in a different article. This was an offer I simply could not refuse. The focus of the article is fitting diet and exercise in the daily routine of the working mother. There is no denying that since having my boys I have "let myself go"; something I had vowed I would not to! Oops!
In 2000, I lost 57 lbs., adding to a previous weight loss and was amazingly fit. I maintained my healthy lifestyle for seven years! During those seven years, I met my husband, a professor in movement activities and lifetime fitness. He seemed to be my perfect match! With a husband whose lifestyle is committed to fitness, how could I possible fall off the wagon? Seems almost impossible, doesn't it?
Well, call me an over-achiever, but I not only fell of the wagon, but went log-rolling down the hill and into the pit of bad-eating habits at warp speed! We managed to conceive our first son, Logan on our honeymoon. This gave me permission to go into a carb-coma after eating those precious handfuls of doughy goodness only on special occasions for seven years prior. I actually remember announcing my pregnancy to my colleagues with those mega-muffins from the local bakery. Everyone knew something was up. I NEVER ate those. This was a monumental occasion, though. I could "cheat" now. This was the time, right?
That was the beginning of the end. Since I was a "high-risk" pregnancy, I was told to take it easy on the exercise and to make sure I was eating enough. The doctor didn't need to tell me twice. I certainly didn't want to disappoint him or put my baby at risk. Who was I to poo-poo the doctor's orders. Again, I over-achieved and planted my butt on the couch and ate gross amounts of carbs and sugar throughout my pregnancy. Couldn't let the little tadpole starve, now, could I? I was going to be the best patient my OB ever saw. If numbers were the measure of success, I was at the head of my class. I gained about 75 lbs.! Yay, Me!
Needless to say, another pregnancy and four years later and I am back at the beginning. Unlike in 2000, though, my time and fridge are no longer mine alone. Having two little balls of energy and a husband to consider; a 40 minute commute to and from work; and a profession which requires me to bring the job home with me certainly doesn't lend itself to exercise and meal-planning. (Unless, you count chasing after a two-year-old to retrieve the scissors he has as exercise and making sure there are frozen dinners in the fridge as meal planning!)
Here we go. It all begins tomorrow. Boy am I a wreck! Failing at this is one thing, but failing in front of all of the readers of Fitness Magazine is something altogether different! Hey, I've been on the other end of these articles. I know what evil thoughts I have when I see those women make excuses for why since their last check-in a month ago, they have only lost .5 lbs. and no inches.
Sure what really matters is that you feel better.
Oh, you are right. It must just be your time of the month.
I can tell by looking at you that you gained so much muscle that the scale is not registering the loss.
I know, I know. I sound cynical. That's because I am. I used to be that woman. To some degree, maybe I still am. If I weren't, I wouldn't be here now, would I? The point is, if I fail this time around, perfect strangers will judge me in ways that make me want to go out and get a gourmet cupcake. That will be counterproductive now, won't it?
Wish me luck. Join me in my quest. Share a thought or two, and recognize that we are all on this journey together. Although our goals may not be the same, we need continued support and understandin
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