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!