The original idea for this post came one day a few weeks back when I had an unfortunate moment with my pre-baby jeans. Anyone over 40 has likely had such a moment, whether it was pregnancy related or not.
Those damn jeans… Just. Wouldn’t. Button.
In a snit, I started listing snarky blog titles:
- Tales of A$$…What are you doing back there? Stop following me!
- A$$ Files…The Truth Jeans are out there!
- Contemplatig My Navel…No, Really.
- The Back Slide – What To Do When Your A$$ Falls Off a Cliff
Obviously, I scrapped those titles, deciding they were too profane, too boring and, well…bitter.
I tried to accept that I’ve just hit that life spot – that moment that comes sometime in most people’s 40’s or 50’s when their bodies don’t look or work the way they used to. That time when you (a)work damn hard to keep the current shape. OR, (b) work damn hard to get back some semblance of the old shape.
I’m not excited about scenario A or B above. And I don’t like sentences that start with “I’ve just had to accept” or any derivation thereof. They’ve got martyr written all over them.
The entire problem boils down to the fact that I don’t really like to sweat.
I like to work out when it doesn’t FEEL like working out:
- A walk with a friend where we jabber the whole time.
- A kickboxing class where I whale on a bag with a picture of my old boss’ face on it. Oh, oops. Did I say that out loud?
- An evening of shaking my bootie all over the dance floor.
I can get behind all those workouts.
I’m reminded that there are other
lazy asses people who hate exercising every time I read Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum novels. Stephanie’s love of birthday cake and donuts (which I don’t share) and the scenes where she can’t button her jeans (which I do share) crack me up every time.
I’m in the middle of Smokin’ Seventeen right now (awesome book!) and seeing Stephanie contemplating her zipper after a huge meal. In previous books, she would just go on a diet for a few weeks or start running with Ranger in the mornings and all would be well with her waistline. This time she has the vordo to help her work it off (another workout I can get behind [no pun intended]) and she manages to keep those jeans under control with minimal effort.
I fear those “few weeks of effort” days are behind me… I’m going to have to dig out all my old workout gear and see if it still fits and looks cute.
My fight with my weight does have an exact start date.
I had a near-death experience several years back and spent about four months in bed as a result of pulmonary embolisms (blood clots). Granted I was working from my bed, but it was a very sedentary time. My husband (who was still my boyfriend back then) would call me and say, “What are you doing?” I’d gaze forlornly down the length of me and say, “Watching my thigh grow.”
And I really was.
I gained about 30 pounds in those four months and tried not to grieve about the “new me” that took up a larger footprint in the world. With a quiver in my lip, I’d tell my girlfriend, “I can always lose weight but I can’t get un-dead. I guess I shouldn’t complain about being so fat.”
And she’d say, “You’re not fat, BooBoo. You’re just fluffy.”
[“Fluffy” made me feel much more peaceful about the situation!]
Eventually health prevailed and I got up out of the bed. I even lost a few of those pounds. But an almost-40 body is VERY different than my old almost-30 body where I could pull a Stephanie Plum and just work out for a few weeks to re-snap my jeans.
When Baby Girl came, so did another new Crazy Body Moment. Being close to your “goal weight” is a huge health bonus during pregnancy so, when I went to my first OB appointment I expected my doctor might tell me to limit my weight gain.
Boy, did he! He looked at me and said my goal during pregnancy was to gain zero to five pounds. Yep, you heard me. I could gain anywhere between NO pounds and FIVE pounds.
At the end of 42 weeks, I came in just over the wire at 7 pounds.
Note: My hubby actually gained twelve pounds during the same time frame. Though, to his credit, he was getting to eat the other half of my meals since the baby sat so high she was like a Lap Band.
Still, that number on the scale and those stupid jeans are taunting me. I know I’m gonna have to break down and just go sweat those pounds off at the gym. Damn it.
What about you? Are you a fitness-a-holic or do you hate to sweat? Have you found any workouts that were so fun, you didn’t mind doing them? What suggestions do you have for “shrinking my footprint?” (I want my favorite jeans back!)
Remember, enquiring minds always want to know here at More Cowbell. I love hearing from you! To show that love, I created the Let’s Meet Up (for Training) contest. The July Winners will be announced tomorrow, so stay tuned…