Pondering the Poundage

Recently one of my favorite bloggers has been writing about her struggles with sugar addiction. Though her situation is certainly more dire than mine (I don't hide goodies and I don't hate vegetables), I find myself relating to an uncomfortable degree. You know how men think about sex every seven seconds? Well, apparently that's a myth. But if it were true, that would be me, except with ice cream. I don't know if it's just because I'm pregnant; honestly, I'm feeling so pregnant right now that I cannot remember anything pre-pregnancy. Did I crave ice cream every second of every day prior to getting knocked up? I have no idea. All I know is that the ice cream monkey is on my back now, and it's not helping my efforts to stay within a healthy weight range. Neither are those M&M's we're supposed to be using only as Simon's potty rewards.

I had an appointment with my midwife a week ago, and we had to check my weight as usual. I had a lot of anxiety about my weigh-in, and with good reason. Even though I exercised a lot during the month, we also had 2 birthday parties for Simon, before, during, and after which I consumed more than my fair share of cupcakes and ice cream. And the scale revealed my indulgences: in the month of March I gained 8 pounds. That's double the recommended amount (1 pound a week, or 4 pounds). Those 8 pounds are in addition to the 30 I had already packed on. With three more months to go, I am almost certainly headed toward a net weight gain of 60 whopping pounds. Good grief.

Carrying Simon I gained a total of about 50 pounds. I was able to eventually lose all of the weight, and then some, but it took a LONG TIME. And a lot of HARD WORK. But I have to say that I am sort of looking forward to the challenge of losing weight again. There is something incredible about shedding that extra skin and finding yourself underneath there. And I mean that in a purely physical sense. I know it will sound weird but it's kind of awesome to put lotion on your legs and think, "Oh, I remember you guys." I'm looking forward to those moments of rediscovery, and to feeling normal again.

But I am a smidge nervous about the process this time around. Will it be just a matter of making time to work out, or will I be fighting some biological force that says, "Hey, you! You --- bearer of TWO children! You think you're losing those last 15 pounds? Ha! I laugh in the face of your optimism! You will never be your svelte self again. Never."

I mean, I just want to know what I'm up against.

On a hopeful note, I think one strong motivator for me will be creating a firm, bicept-y canvas for my next tattoo. I'm really excited about it. I think about it a lot. Almost as much as ice cream. Oh, who the fuck am I kidding? No I don't.

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Oliver said...
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