Last night was my second meeting with Sargent Fake Tits and the rest of the fat camp mommies. (I call it fat camp just because its easier to say "mommy is going to fat camp tonight" when little man asks where I am going than that explaining that he and his sister ruined mommies body, and now she has to learn how to get this weight off and get back into shape before summer.) It was a meeting I was dreading all week. Every piece of food I picked up, I thought "how am I going to justify this to Sargent Fake Tits?" Every time I felt like snuggling up on the sofa as opposed to working out, I would think, "Well, SFT is going to yell at me, I better get my ass up." Just the thought of the little blond lady with the big boobs, and thick russian accent kinda scared the shit out of me. (And after talking to other mom's last night, it scared them too.) So I worked out every day, 20 minutes a day on the eliptical. The first few days, I thought I was going to throw up, but after day 3 I felt pretty good with 20 minutes. I kept a food log, and wrote down everything I ate. I tried to eat better, and I thought I did pretty good for the most part, but still ate more carbs than I should have for dinner. I remembered from my brief experience with gestational diabetes that you should never eat a carb without a protein, so I tried to really stock up on proteins. I cut back on as many snacks and junk foods as possible. I noticed towards the end of the week that my post-pregnancy jeans (which are 2 sizes from where I would like to be) were just a little lose on me. I didn't think too much of it, I figured that they were just getting stretched out.
So last night was the moment of truth. The big weigh in. Last week I had no idea we were getting weighed at the meeting, so I had a HUGE dinner before. Last night, I had a salad. I didn't do as well as I wanted with cutting the carbs from dinner all week, but figured if I had a protein packed salad for dinner, I wouldn't go so filled up. I knew that if I got on that scale and the number didn't go down, I was probably going to cry, I hadn't had any sugar or snacks all week, and I worked out every day. Then as I was getting ready to go, but husband says "What are you going to do if you gained weight?"... I would have quit. Right then and there. So I wore a pair of leggings and a light sweater dress (as opposed to my jeans and big sweater from the week before), I just couldn't handle seeing THAT number on the scale again. So I get on the scale, close my eyes, and SFT says, "Oh thats great!" I look down, and I lost almost 4 lbs! I am not expecting to lose 3-4 lbs a week, but it was a damn great start! Yeah, maybe it had to do with me wearing lighter clothes, or eating lighter yesterday, but I am going to give myself at least a little credit here. I made a goal to do something for ME, to take a small chunk of time for myself every day and work out, and to eat better, and it made a difference!
I made a promise to myself last week, that after a week of 20 minutes, I would jump up to 30 minutes on the eliptical, and today I did just that. Just like last week after my first day of 20 minutes, after 30 minutes I felt like I was going to vomit. (The 30 minute program on my eliptical is MUCH more intense than the 20, I will admit, a few times I almost just said f-it, I'm OK being a little fluffy) But I didn't quit, I kept going, in the back of my head I just kept thinking "you have a beach vacation planned this year, you dont want to be the frumpy mom in the one-piece and the skirt that barely covers your fat ass."
Sometime before next weeks meeting, I am supposed to meet with the Sarge and she is going to measure my body fat and a bunch of other fun stuff. I am sure after that meeting I will go back to feeling like a fat turd come home, and drink an entire bottle of wine to numb the pain. But today, I will be happy with my progress, and excited for the future.
Stay tuned kids :)
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