Weight A Minute

Weight stuff sucks. I just text my husband a "feeling fat" reference and he told me that your body fluctuates up to 3 to 5 pounds difference a day and not to feel discouraged. My shorts are telling me something else, I feel.

I gave up "diets" forever ago and I found that everything in moderation works best. I can be super extreme about diets. When I was on Weight Watchers a decade ago, I used to eat like 4 servings of low fat soup, and save all of my calories and cheat points for liquid calories or an order like this one:

I can also just not eat. It's like a medieval challenge for me to starve. This is not the correct approach, I found. I also hate the idea of missing out on food, or fun because of dieting.

For years I worked in close proximity to what I call "Food Shamers." You were damned if you do, damned if you don't. You were highly praised for losing weight when noticed, and side comments were always made. It was not a happy environment. If you were given "free lunch" you would feel guilted into eating but then shamed for eating Pizza, Chik-Fil-A or whatever, later. It was maddening.

It was after that I realized I wanted to eat and do whatever. That also backfired. Calories suck. It is now, with many workouts, endless therapy, age and my thyroid working against me, that it's all about moderation, all the time.

So this morning I put on my shorts that I haven't worn since...October maybe? In October I was still going to spin and boot camp. I had just toned up like a boss and was gradually getting out of obsessive workout mode and into mental health matters. The shorts were a little tight. Frustrating.

I refuse to watch the Marie Kondo thing on Netflix but I get the whole "not sparking joy" thing to the point where I purged my whole closet. Any pants that made me feel fat or less than, have moved on. And also some pairs of shorts. I refuse to feel "badly" about myself in what I'm wearing.

So I talked myself down, "Okay, you haven't negatively changed your diet. You are still transitioning from Boot Camp to kickboxing which is just a whole new routine for your body to adjust to. You also just got the diagnosis that you have an underactive thyroid working against you. You don't LOOK unhealthy. You're good girl."

I text some friends for moral support. I did the mirror check at work. Then I listened to my Dax Shepard podcast and he said how important physical activity is, not for vanity, but for mental health and my self esteem perked right back up, why?

I'm in a way healthier mental space now, then I was consumed with double workouts, hating to run and feeling lack luster about routines. So what if my pants disagree. This is just affirmation of why I adore leggings more. 

I consider myself a body positive person, but also get a little worried when it comes to those heavier people that are technically and medically unhealthy. Be curvy, gorgeous women, but also be healthy. You can embrace your size but don't eat McDonald's 5 times a week. The health standards and balanced diets exist for a reason. You don't have to technically fit in, but also don't risk unnecessary health problems and shorter life span just because you want to not care about what you can eat.

By technical standards, I have never fit the "ideal weight" for my height and even at my most fit, and most skinny, I didn't fit into them, but my BMI was healthy, and had no health concerns. Sure, my thyroid is being a ridiculous challenge that has me fearing western medicine, but I work out 30 minutes a day 5 to 6 days a week, sometimes longer. I don't eat junk routinely and drink maybe one night a week or one night every few weeks, if that. I'm still curvy and not a size 0. Everyone is different.

I think we all struggle with our weight, whether or not we want to admit it, but we just need to "weight a minute." Life happens, some days you need two cupcakes, some days you don't. Food is amazing and I've never regret eating anything...anything that didn't give me food poisoning that is.

I love trying new things, desserts, and having great wine with it all. I'm willing to work for that, no questions asked. I realized very young that I cannot sit around and eat what I want. However, if I work out or participate in athletic activities I can care less about what I'm eating and just work on moderation. One cupcake, not four.

We will all have bad days, bloated and frumpy days, and days we think we're Beyonce. Just saying. 

My encouragement and pep talk is, do what works for you and makes you happy for your health level. Just "weight a minute" the next time you get a case of the "feeling yucky body moments" and think about your health. If you're doing what you can, and not pushing too many boundaries for your metabolism and such, you're doing awesome. Maybe there are other ways to improve upon? Aren't there always? 

Stay strong readers and just "weight a minute," because we all have those days when we just feel so, "bleh." But remember, you are Beyonce, always!

Allergic To The Best Weather Of The Year

When I was younger the ideas of allergies was like, when you were allergic to flowers or peanut butter or bee stings and you would puff up, your throat would close up or you could like die. They never warn you that allergies just randomly show up in adulthood to better hinder you from regular functionality without drugs.

It happens the same two times every year for me: October and March. And it's always during the most beautiful weather. It's the weather where you want your windows open and fresh air everywhere, but you can't because you already are covered in boogers and phlegm from when you took a walk earlier.

We have gorgeous oak trees in Safety Harbor. We have a huge one in our front yard. It keeps our house nice and cool in the summer too. We are all ridiculously allergic to it, but it's still a fabulous tree.

My favorite events are in March, and end of October, early November and all are usually taken down a few pegs from my allergies rearing their ugly heads. Besides yelling at the concert, being less hydrated because beer was cheaper than water, and adding being tired on top of it has made my allergies all kinds of unhappy. Not to mention how much I've been outside.

I don't have to miss work; I can still function but boy does my head feel filled with phlegm. It's a gorgeous picture, you're welcome. It's sniffing, sneezing and blowing noses along with deep smoky voices and sinus pressure. It's quite a picnic.

I usually do Benadryl at night and Sudafed by day. This is the only time when I think drugs are my friends and they become a necessary ritual. 

So here I am, ready for my favorite 5K of the year, the Nolan's St. Patrick's Day 5K for St. Baldrick's foundation. It's a great crowd, you get a commemorative cup after and free beer if you want, I never do. You get a shirt and it's under $30. Plus I can walk to it. 

When I do a race I only have one goal: no stopping, so no giving up. I hear my trainer constantly saying, "A slow job is better than a fast walk." And I keep that every time I slow down a little because I'm not feeling so hot or things start to hurt, and I always love that accomplished feeling after I hit the finish line.

I'll be an outwardly horrible person by admitting that my favorite part of any race, is running past the "Fit moms." The "Fit moms" are the moms that look like they've never had a baby and don't even have rolls when they sit, and 9 times out of 10, they burn out first, answer a phone call or slow down to find a friend or a kid, and I jog past them at my steady pace.

I also always get a sick sense of pleasure from the fact that the 19 year-olds who are a foot taller and a good 50lbs less than I am in weight always end up walking at some point. That's right, this slow mom has the endurance!

Even with my allergy stuff kicking my butt I completed my 5K. The morning went nothing like I'd hoped but I did sneak an allergy nap so that's good. We got a little rain but for the next few weeks I'm just settled into the misery that is allergy season, before it starts to get gross and hot for another 7 months. 

Even as I took the dog on a walk with the weather overcast but temperate I was all stuffy and my head was killing me. So as I wind down another successful, but busy weekend, I feel really ready for an early bed time filled with Benadryl and hope for a less snotty week. 

I put in the effort to enjoy the weather at least, so there's that, no matter how allergic I may be. Happy Sunday readers!

Mom Bods: We Carry More Weight In More Ways Than One

This morning I did the unthinkable. I did something that bothered me to every fiber of my being. Something that I haven't done in over six years. I got on the scale to see what I weighed. Why did I cave into doing something I loathe in this way? Well, yesterday I went to my annual lady check up on a cold Florida morning and they made me get on their scale, and completely clothed, mind you. After obsessively working out with no time to eat too much, of course I expected to drop 20 pounds immediately because I deserved it dammit! Alas, I weighed maybe a pound or two less than last year, which was super disappointing.

So, I tossed and turned, hit the gym this morning and decided, "I can't actually weigh that much because I had on boots and serious layers and I started 2018 very puffy and uncomfortable. I refuse to believe I've made no progress." So I did it and as I suspected, 6 pounds less with no layers and boots. Score! And I looked at that number and realized, I was a good 40 pounds lighter than when I had Luna, but 24 pounds heavier than my skinniest. The best part? Those numbers didn't defeat me. 

Exactly 10 years ago when I was in Oregon, finishing my last semester at University of Oregon (Go Ducks) and finishing my depression and anxiety treatment, fitness was everything to me. In just 2 months in the future, I'd be engaged and then married the day after I graduated college. 

I was friends with a trainer that worked at the U of O fitness complex so between her and weight watchers I ended up trimming down to the absolute most fit I've ever been. I worked really hard because when you're a college student working only part time, you have all the time in the world to eat, but then again to work out also. When I actually looked at weight watchers and saw how many points were assigned to everything, I wanted to become anorexic or bulimic. Luckily I went through way too many years of orthodontia to ruin my teeth so anorexia became way more appealing than pigging out. Who was I kidding though, I didn't have that discipline and I was in love with food. 

I replaced binge-eating and emotional snacking with working out. My last semester at U of O I actually won the Nike Fit Female of the month and was up to 3 workouts some days. When I got married, I was legitimately thin. I was so terrified to put it back on because I LOVE FOOD and also wine and amazing cocktails. I maintained really well our first 2 years in Florida because it is mandatory you have a "beach body." With age and stress, I allowed myself a little more wiggle room until pregnancy and then after a really great first 4 months of growing a person, I just went for it. All I wanted was steak, potatoes, Twizzlers and Chik Fil A and also, if you can't eat like a pig when you're pregnant, when can you?

I got on the scale after Luna was born and there may have been tears over the post baby belly. It took me a year of motherhood until I allowed myself to take much time for me and when I hit boot camp, it was so hard. The first 90 days were the most brutal but I did it. I got down to my thick comfy size after a year. After two years I was in my pre-baby size but on the top of that range too. This past year was about stress and anxiety though.

We'd had a wedding to attend last summer that would be filled with beautiful people and I wanted to be one of  them. I had made grand designs to start in March only to have them completely derailed and halted. Not being able to work out my normal routine and being left with no other options sank me into a pretty bad depression. What helped? Bread and ice cream. Not together, just as my comfort cheats.

Finally I'd had enough. My mom, who has given me enough body issues to sustain multiple lifetimes, was of course on board to watch Luna so I could go workout during the weeknights so I could "start to feel better and fit into real clothes again," as she so lovingly describes my journey and struggle. So, I got a gym membership and went back to full time boot camp. Before I knew it I was working out twice a day again and every time I got angry or sad or anxious, I took it out in spin or on the treadmill. 

I stopped getting on the scale when I started Boot Camp because when I felt better, I noticed my sleep getting more sound and my clothes fitting differently so that was all I needed. I also had a tribe of people who supported me and told me I was looking healthier, happier and different. Working at the car dealership at the time also helped because I was surrounded by a bunch of 45+ old married dudes who loved to make inappropriately strange compliments from time to time; always a nice ego boost.

But I stayed away from that scale. Why? Because when I was younger with way more free time, all I had was time to obsess about food and all the rationalizations of "If I want that I have to work out more to earn it." In my old age I just decided, "Oh I'm having that cake, but just one small piece, not 3 because someone pissed me off today. Someone will piss me off every day, take it out on the elliptical. That's how you have your cake and eat it too mama!" Yes, I literally pep talk myself often. 

Even after the car accident, my stomach, an already super self-conscious area for me because my mom used to pat it and promise I'd "grow out of the baby fat and then be pretty and thin," got so smashed and bruised from the seat belt and impact that today there are little scar type crumples and bumps that I despise. It was hard for me to get really back into working out because I was so sore and swollen and awkward for a couple months. So my patience with my body has since evolved.

With all of the mental stuff that came with that, I just didn't take care of myself. So last year I took it back. Now due to adulting, the gym membership expires next week, however I have multiple back up plans to keep me healthy, but this morning was about my needing that validation that it was paying off. I have a few people who's opinion of my physical appearance I trust undoubtedly past the whole "Uh huh, yeah that matches" type thing, but I think I still needed a little affirmation for myself.

I don't intend to get obsessive about the numbers. I will admit I was a little disappointed, yes, but having the numbers be more already lost than more I need to lose was positive. And I've found that we all have these things about us, these strengths and weaknesses about our own personal imagery. And on these journeys, maybe we post too much about it on Instagram, but these routines for health we've established can sometimes be our saving grace. For me, the gym is a place where nothing else matters but my time to kick butt, everything else can slow down for a minute.

As moms we all carry weight so differently, which is why I hate the scale. I weigh the same as women 2 feet taller than me but it's all in my stomach and thighs, and maybe they carry it in their waist or bust. You never know. And us moms have it worse than you single ladies because our bodies went through uncontrollable changes. Sure we can try to keep everything together but pregnancy and childbirth change our figures forever! My hips can tell you that personally, and my boobs too! I didn't even have boobs before baby! And they still haven't even left me!

Already as moms we feel that pressure to be fit and look good even on the days we feel like a tired old handbag ready to be thrown in the Goodwill pile. I remember this weird feeling after I had Luna where I had to "dress like a mom." What did that even mean? I mean I had shirts with weird band logos and swear words. I guess I shouldn't show up to the park in those but did I need an Ann Taylor credit card? How does one dress like a mom? I still don't know.

We all have our own style and ways for ever facet of motherhood, especially how we carry our physical and emotional weight. Mom Bods carry it all, both figuratively and physically, so be gentle on each other, and be gentle on ourselves. It's progress over perfection and the last cliche of today is, the only workout you regret, is the one you didn't do! You got this mamas! WE got this! See you in the gym!