Working Out

I finally broke down and joined a gym yesterday. It's been way too long since I've been happy with the way I looked. In addition to the weight I gained during those first years with Neil, when blissful new couple that we were, we ate out like four nights a week. And I'm not the kind of girl to just order a salad when I'm at a restaurant. Or if I do, it's the big honkin' Cobb Salad with all the fixins. But then there's the extra twenty pounds that I gained when I was pregnant with Sophie that I haven't been able to lose. All of that business about breastfeeding making you lose all the weight may be true for some, but then you're also ravenously hungry, because you're feeding two people. The calories in barely equal the calories out.

I'm not going to feed you a line of bull about how I'm doing this just to get in shape, to have more energy. I'm doing this to lose weight. I mean, I'm going to be healthy about it, and those are positive side effects, but my goal is to get into a smaller size. I know Oprah says that's the wrong way to approach it, but why varnish the truth? I did one of those on-line BMI calculators and it said I was obese. O-frakking-bese. You can't sugar coat that. Something has to change. I do go walking regularly but with the weather so unpredictable at this time of year, it's tough. I need somewhere that I can go that doesn't depend on the weather. We have an exercise bike and a stepper, but I have a hard time motivating myself to get on them. Those hours when Sophie is napping are so dear to me. If I'm not napping myself, then I am trying to accomplish some of the ten thousand things that need to be done around here.

Here's the biggie, and the thing that will probably keep me going back: they have child care. I can go any time of day and she can spend an hour with the other kiddies while I get some time to myself. How precious is that?

I'm pretty excited.

I feel skinnier already.