The Gym... Walkin On The Wild Side

Since my fat wake-up call I have decided, I must go to the gym, you know the place I have been paying monthly for, yet look the opposite way when I drive by it.  Yeah that place, the place with people with the fabulous California bodies, lifting weights, chatting each other up over a nice cold glass of some green gunky they call a healthy shake. Ugh...

So I walk in, and head to childcare, where the sweet young girl who is always there immediately recognizes Bean and coos over her, only to be slapped right in front of my horrified and mortified eyes.  I for a moment consider acting like I just found her in the parking lot, but then just apologize profusely and tell her that Bean isn't the same since she had her surgery, that they definitely left her with a mean bone.  The sweet girl looks at me, wary, and takes Bean to play.  I walk out of childcare, and for a moment, the snack enters my mind.... Nope! On a mission I remind myself.

I head to the locker room where said fabulous California bodies parade naked talking to each other as if they were Eve in the garden and had no idea they were naked.  Boobs, boobs everywhere, and I am sorry, but these boobs were older than me, so they have absolutely no right to be so perky okay, at least not at 8 AM, it's just not right! 

Finally after putting my purse in the locker, grabbing my iPod, and making a trip to the little girls room, I hit the floor.  No not literally, I mean figuratively like I am rocking the gym girls.  I try to confidently walk to the treadmill, where this pretty mom, who obviously has been far more proactive than I is running, and I mean running.  I step on, turn on my Ipod, and humbly punch the speed to 3.0, man this is going to be a long journey... 

Wake-up Call

This morning I had a wake-up call.  No not the kind where you are lounging on a bed surrounded by down comforters and pillows, where the front desk associate calls and says, "Ms. Calista, this is your morning wake up call, coffee and breakfast will be up Post Haste." Hey I can dream right?

It also was not the "MMMOOOOOMMMM" wake up call at 630 am on a Saturday.  If my kids ever discover the wonder of sleeping till 8am, I will be out of my skin with excitement, and maybe I will actually start saving money on that vat of concealer I am forced to buy to cover my dark circles which I might add have become permanently affixed to my face! I am not even 35 yet, and this seems like a crime against nature!

Nooo... I only wish it was one of those 630 am wake up calls that I am writing to bitch about.  Instead, it was one of greater proportions (literally)... Get where I am going?  That's right girls, I am going to the scale.  I was kind of excited.  I have exercised consistently for a whole week, I even broke a sweat on more than one occasion and I have avoided wheat, which I have discovered doesn't like me nearly as much as I adore it. As soon as I step on it, I swear the scale starts gasping for breath, I stare now suddenly nervous.  The numbers pop up, and my eyes pop out! Noooo!!! It can't be.  I stare at the scale, kind of afraid to move, I envision me stepping off and springs suddenly flying out... I decided it had to be wrong.  So I step off, pick up the scale, shake it around, because I am pretty sure by this point the batteries might be low.  I resume the position and step on again... Drat! Same number.  Well, then I realize, I am wearing a pretty heavy tissue tee, a bra, skivvies and pants.  I drop all that, and get on assured the number will be better... it was... by one pound... Ugh...

Well this was certainly a wake-up call!!!  I have to do something, I have to be motivated and maybe this wasn't the best time to get my Girl Scout cookie order delivered... Thin Mints... Ha!

A Mother's Excitement

I have now realized how my world has changed since becoming a mom.  My views on fun, and excitement, and even retail therapy are drastically different than they once were.  I was sitting there thinking about it this Saturday morning, as I drank my coffee, before anyone rose, cherishing my alone time, at 6am! How sick is that??? 6am? Ugh... Gone are the days of sleeping in, but I can't even make it till 8am? What the heck???

I was sitting there contemplating the changes in my perspective, laughing, and admittedly crying at the same time.  I love being a mom, don't get me wrong, but gone are the days, I can watch MTV without cringing, gone are the days I can watch what I want when I want, I now am sitting there surrounded by little people, and now there is the greater good to look out for, and CSI, doesn't seem to fit the bill. Thank Goodness for the DVR, am I right?

I got a sitter the other day, so that I could run some errands with two free hands. OMGosh, I was giddy.  I was giddy to go to the bank, and the grocery store.  Seriously, something is wrong here.  Then I decided to do some retail therapy, heck I was out right?  Where did I end up you ask?  The local Wal-Dizzle! I walk in, with a sense of freedom, so rarely felt, and mind you, I HATE going to box stores, because they are always crowded with crying kids, grumpy parents, yet for some brain faded moment I chose it for my retail therapy.  I am pretty sure I am back to my Motherhood Dementia phase.

I excited throw items into the cart with reckless abandon! I will worry about the bill later right, this is therapy!  I go aisle by aisle, tossing items in, without even looking at the price, I mean how expensive can they be, I am at the Wal-Dizzle!  I feel more free with every toss. I walk confidently to the checkout, only to find myself behind said grumpy parents and crying kids. Ugh... my high is fading quickly.  Then I get to the counter, and get the largest buzzkill I have had in recent years as I see the items I chose for my retail therapy.  Crossing the checkout is a slew of sippy cups, wipee packages, snack containers, fishy crackers, fruit snacks, and Mr. Clean Magic Erasers, and a total of $60! Sixty dollars and nothing for me, no splurges, no purses, movies.  No... my retail therapy was useful items. What is wrong with me?  I left Wal-Dizzle deflated, shoulders slumped, and headed to starbixals, where I bought the cheapest cup of black coffee, before heading home to pay the sitter $20.

Yes... my world has changed.  I come home, and see three smiling faces, and hear "Mommy's home" before being bum rushed with hugs and see three excited kids go through their spoils.  My energy is back, and I remember, that this is why I am a mom...

Spanx...

My friends rave, rave, rave about their spanx.  I of course am the fat friend, and hearing about this miracle girdle, I thought it was the answer to my pudgy ass.  Not so much... I found out the hard way, that the Spanx, a blessing to the thin and nearly thin, are not so much a blessing for a mom of three with some weight on her. Fasten your seatbelts, it gonna be a bumpy ride...

So I bought this dress and thought if I could perhaps get a smoother silhouette, I would good to go, I was ready to rock this dress. So I got me some wonder girdle spanx shorts...

Getting ready for proved to be quite disasterous... I get my spanx, and when I take them out of the package I see a pair of shorts that could easily fit my slim trim 11 year old.  You have got to be kidding, I think.  I check the package figuring I bought the wrong ones, nope they are the right size.  I go to put one foot in and nearly fall over, my foot is stuck and I am hopping all over the bathroom like a mad woman, trying to regain my balance and keep from falling, finally I free my foot from the spandex quicksand and an now out of breath, panting, and sweating like a hog digging truffles.  Traumatized I realize this is apparently a sitting down process.

So I sit on the edge of the bed, and decide to stretch these things out, so I am pulling and stretching, mind you I am still sore today! These should be marketed as doubling for resistance bands.  I finally attempt my foot again, whew, it goes in, so I put in the next. All is good!!  I wriggle, and I wiggle, I stretch and I pull until they are up! They are up! Then I take a step and snap, off the muffin top they slide, and up my ham hocks they roll.  Ugh!!!  I waddle to the mirror, so breathless, I worry about fainting on the 5 step journey. What I see will haunt me forever.... these things have sqeezed my waist alright but to make the waist, the fat rolls over the waste and out the bottom! I look like my kids tube of toothpaste when they squeeze from the middle, and all the stuff goes out the top... so not attractive. 

I decide, the only option is to retuck.  So I tuck myself back into the dreaded spandex hell and look again.  What do I see, but I huge boulder in the middle, and one in the back.  I look like the lady on Steel Magnolias, where she was dancing like two pigs wrestling under a blanket, I was that lady!!!  I suck in, and nothing moves, not a thing. I walk again, because I can't wear them standing still right, and.. Snap! Roll! Crap!

I finally realize that these will not work for me.  And dread washes over me.... How will I ever get them off???  I look around, panicked I will have to call the paramedics to extricate me from my own girdle using the jaws of life.  After about a half hour, I wriggle free from my torture chamber.  Miracle Girdle... my ass!

Bean's Update

Wow since November, it has been a blur.  Bean did well with her surgery and it was successful. Yay, however, exactly a month to the day of the surgery, she had an infection open her wound from the inside out, so back in the hospital we were, and by the time we got home, 4 days later, family from Texas was arriving.  The craziness from the holidays and winter illnesses ensued. 

Today Bean is doing well!!! She is nearly 18 months old already!! Time Flies!!!