This past Tuesday Maggie turned 10 months old. Holy shit balls! My baby is almost one year old + here I am still unable to get into my old pre-preggers pants, shirts and bras! I no longer nurse as much as I used to so my weight loss has all together halted so it’s way past due time to take my wide ass back to the gym.
Before Maggie was born, Harry being the wonderful generous supportive husband that he is, bought me an elliptical. I fretted over the fact that the gyms on post did not allow babies so Harronks came to the rescue. It’s a great machine except for the fact it’s so fucking loud that it wakes the baby every damn time I attempt to use it. FAIL. I gave up on it. Have a long peaceful HP nap time where I can blog, nap +/or shower leisurely OR work out for 15 minutes then deal with a cranky Pocket? Decisions, decisions.
Honestly that is a very legit excuse to why my fat ass makes my fat ass look fat, but I won’t BS any more excuses. I’ve just been lazy these past 10 months + it needs to stop. I don’t hate how I look, but I’m not comfortable or confident with the body I now possess. To think only a couple years ago I was a gym bunny + actually enjoyed shopping for new clothes is a kick in the she nuts. I miss those times + there is no reason why I can’t look + feel good again.
I heard through the mommy grapevine that YMCA provides child care so I hauled HP over to the Y to check things out. The facility is really nice, so clean + inviting. The staff is friendly + calls patrons by their names. I love the child care center. It has tons of neat play areas + toys + the attendants are all mothers themselves so they know what to do. I went in, planned on shelling out the bucks because this Shamu’s gotta do what she gotta do + was happily surprised to not owe a dime. The YMCA gives free memberships to the spouses + immediate family of soldiers serving overseas. AHHHHHH YO! Now I really do not have any excuse not to be a MILF.
HP loooooooooooooves going to the child care center. She doesn’t miss me at all or cries when I leave. All the ladies there love her; she is always so happy + well behaved for them. I don’t feel guilty leaving her with them, she truly has a blast. I know because I’ve peeked in on her multiple times. You know what makes it all more the better? Shit is free, dog. I consider it a trade off. I don’t get peen or have anyone to take the trash out so I get a free gym membership. Don’t hate.
Tomorrow will be my 3rd workout in my new regime. I refuse to talk numbers, but I’m 15 lbs away from my conception weight + 25 away from my goal weight. Kinda seems like a lot, but in perspective I don’t think HP feels that heavy + she is 20 lbs. I’m looking at it like that as not to get frustrated.
I’ve been focusing on attempting to get back into running (I cannot believe I did this, I’m still in pain BTW) since for my body type, that is the quickest/basically only way to see any sort of change in my tree trunk legs figure. I feel like my lungs are shot-glass sized. I cannot catch my breath. So yeah, my body exterior + interior is pissing me off right now. I’m sure things will get easier soon; I tend to get in shape semi-fast, at least I did in the past. Not only tomorrow do I need to workout, but I need to find some workout clothes. Right now I’m wearing my old, pre-baby stuff + it is not pretty. I pray that my climacool capris don’t split down the back because I, um, don’t wear draws to the gym. Shut up! If you do you’re asking for a wedgie yeast infection! I wore 2 sports bras today to hold down the twins. Wowza.
