I said I wasn't gonna let this place become a "weight-loss" blog.
I said it, and I lied.
Because the act of figuring the points and chronicling every bite that goes in to my mouth is consuming (heh...consuming) , and I didn't have a super long attention span to begin with.
As of my weigh-in last night, I am down 5.8 pounds. While this is great and all, I don't quite know what to do with my excitement. I'm not sure how I want to go about celebrating my losses, because.... on the one hand, I'm working hard for it. On the other hand, I don't want the Chaos Girls to get some skewed picture in their minds about how "yukky" fat is and all the blahblahblah that comes with body image.
I intend to lose every ounce that I can before I get pregnant. How do I talk this up? What do I say in front of the girls that will convey to a one/three/five year old that mama is working hard and achieving goals (because I am proud of myself)... without planting seeds of pain for later in life? Without adding to the stigma and body-shame that our culture and media so gleefully heaps upon girls?
So far I have kept it on the down-low (not that hard... it's been two whole weeks, whoopee), but if it takes me a while longer to get pregs, and it could easily take months, I could be at this for a while. Months of Weight Watchers will mean going down a size or two... noticeably smaller. Smaller enough that a kid might eventually notice. There will also be after the future, theoretical pregnancy. There will also be my whole freaking life... The body, she will not let her layers of comfort and insulation go quietly into the night, this will be a fight that will become noticeable in many ways.
Why am I stressing about something that has not even happened? Well, it's what I do. It's what I do best! I am the mama.
So. My best idea is to find an athletic goal to work toward. Something to point all my excitement and sense of pride at. Something that I can do, or do quantifiably better when I am shrunken down. A thing that I can say that I am working toward, rather than a certain size of pants... it's what I would want for my girls. It should be what I want for me.
I admire but do not envy marathoners, triathletes, and endurance sport folks. Is cool what they do, but I don't really think it's the bag for me. What I admire and envy are the women who can fight. No small surprize that two of my biggest bloggirl crushes are MamaD and Elizasmom, I don't just love them and their brains... I love what they can do. They are queens of Tae Kwon Do and Karate respectively and I thinks that's the bomb-diggity, yo!
"Oooooo-oo, I wanna be like You-oooo!
I wanna WALK like you TALK like you, tooo-ooo!
You see it's TRUE-oooo
A mom like ME-eeee
Can learn BE
Baaa-aaad A@@ TOOO-oooo!"
(sung to the tune Human Too, from the Jungle Book)
But then, everything gets oogied up with this last kid that I am trying for; the whole unknowable factor of the timing combined with the known factor of just how truly vile pregnancy makes me feel. Wuff! Plus the obvious: no weightloss during pregnancy, ya twidjit! But there is no question of postponing this pregnancy. Not for me, and I'll tell you why.
Only not today. Tomorrow.
I gotta get on the laundry. Poor Dadguy lodged a formal complaint last night, as he scraped the two baskets worth of clean, unfolded clothing off the bed for the ten ka-spillionth time, just so's he could sleep. Gotta take some pity on the man, although, truth be known... it's been weeks since he has run out of clean underpants. Huzzah to me!