NOT a diet.. (WARNING: I WILL DISCUSS BREASTS)

Sometimes, I read my sister's "how to be a girl" magazines, since they come to Mom and Dad's house, and since I don't have a clue about how to be a girl.  It's the beginning of a new year, and I read a page about the "average woman" and her diet.  It was something like sixty percent of women are on a diet at all times.  WHAT THE CRAP?

I don't know about you, but when I hear "diet," I think "deprivation."  This is such a sticky issue.  Where does one draw that fine line between being a fluffy but happy pastry-makin' fool and a spazzed-out ascetic who gets all her nutrition from her own sense of self-satisfaction?  And come on, who would YOU rather hang out with?  You know how long that article said the average woman's diet lasts?  About two weeks. 

I haven't been very happy with my body for the last six months at least.  Yeah, go do the math, I have a seven-month-old son.  The first month after a new baby, I feel like I get some leeway, having just evicted a whole superfluous person from myself.  Then reality and the crazy hormones set in.  I walk around Wal-Mart playing the "Is SHE fatter than me?" game in my head.   The problem is, I don't KNOW.  I am overweight, but not obese, according to my BMI.  (TMI, BMI!)

Everyone has this mental picture of what they look like.  Problem is, this self-image is wildly subjective, at least it is for me.  If I've had a pretty good day, am wearing flattering clothing, and the moon is aligned with Jupiter and Mars, head-me is nearly pretty.   But, oh, the flipside.  Have I been snappish with my husband or my kids?  Have I brushed my hair or even looked in a mirror today?  Those days, I feel like I'm wearing the world's ugliest muu-muu, slumped in a hammock, yelling "quit it" at my little Ralph Wiggum-lookalike kids as they poke my bulk with a stick.  Name that Simpson's episode!

Toby and I have not made any huge changes, but we have stopped eating nearly so  many cheap refined carbs at home.  It's been fairly painless, except when we can't think of anything to make for supper and there always seems to be just one last box of macaroni and cheese left in the pantry.  I've slowly lost about ten pounds, which puts me at only eight more to be at my pre-first-pregnancy weight.  Not that that was ideal, but it's a huge amount of progress.   The point is, we've made changes that we can live with, not just for a month or a year until some "happy weight" is reached, but forever.  The kids haven't even noticed a change, and they're eating the same things we are, since I'm way too lazy to make more than one meal at a time.

I'm trying to find that happy medium between making healthy changes for myself and the fam, and still having good food to enjoy.  Just not every day.  How much fun is birthday cake, if you get it every day anyway?  I want special things to remain just that.  I also want my kids to learn moderation and respect for foods and their bodies.  I need to model healthy body-image for them, since there's so much media crap out there telling kids what a healthy, happy person should look like.

I'm trying to make changes outside and inside.  If my brain doesn't think I'm gorgeous, I could weight 90 pounds and still only focus on my wobblies.  My mental goal for this month is to STAND UP STRAIGHT.  I am not a social girl.  I hate crowds and public attention of almost any kind.  I've always physically tried to make myself as unobtrusive as possible.  Then I had kids and they conspired with my Grandma Sandtorf to give me an enormous rack.  I am a short girl, with a very short body, so guess how much more dumpy slouching about can make me?  I'm going to mentally wear my prettiest Damsel In This Dress corset, and I'm going to stand straight and tall, with my shoulders back.  Then I'll probably blush and look at my feet, but BABYSTEPS, y'all.

Where else was I?  Okay, diet.  They suck. You know what I am doing?  I'm exercising and eating more vegetables.  Lots more.  Did you know that sauteed mushrooms in an omelet officially rock?  They do.  I've eaten an omelet nearly every morning for the last few months.  Also, chop up a bum-load of vegetables, toss with olive oil, salt and pepper and roast until they beg for mercy.  And do yourself a favor and look up kale chips.  It sounds nuts, but they are like Pringles, if a beneficent nature intended Pringles.

Listening to...

Hey, everyone else knows that working out is easier when listening to music.  Duh, me!  I've been struggling to put in fifteen minutes on the treadmill, while watching an episode or two of Good Eats (is it wrong of me to watch food while trying to lose weight?), or a Netflix movie.  Today, I just plugged earbuds into my skull and did 30 minutes, no problem.  I think a fast beat and a large number of changeovers between songs help keep me going.  Yeah, my attention span is about three minutes.  I even felt kind of...happy.  Go, music!

Rocking my world today:

The Killers, Muse, and The White Stripes, and some Queen.

What's Going On?

I've been quite restless about the fact that even though breastfeeding *supposedly* uses five hundred calories a day, I am pretty much stuck weighing five pounds more than I did before the Loch-pregnancy. Okay, I've actually been restless about a lot of things, but I can't control any of the others much.

I've been faithfully working out on the treadmill for about two and a half weeks and keeping track of my "progress" with a free online fitness journal. I've lost, then regained, then lost again, about two pounds. I'm trying to motivate myself with things like more energy, less depression, etc... It's mostly vanity.

I checked my measurements for the first time since starting, and there is a difference. My bum is about an inch and a half smaller. Bust, an inch smaller. Thighs, also an inch smaller. Waist? No change. Just the flippin' place where I need to lose weight the most. I'm already shaped like the ice cream cone above, if it looked like it had also gestated five kids. Also, it's half Nutella-flavored, just like me.

Where does that leave me? Holding my pants up with a belt, and worried that if I lose more weight, I might not be able to sell corsets anymore, if you know what I mean. I knew I'd been working hard, but was not aware that I've literally been working my a** off.

Halloween Wistful, Life Wistful.

I'm seeing all these awesome ideas online for Halloween parties, and decorations, and costumes, and food. Sigh. If only I wasn't so burned out from the costuming rush. Toby and I didn't even dress up for the kids' Halloween parties at school.

I did dress up for the church's annual Trunk or Treat event. My corset that fit at this time last year (when I was very early pregnant with Loch), doesn't fit anymore. I weigh the same, but things are obviously distributed differently now. Also sigh. I thought my body was already a fairly fluffy mom-style. It's the first one or two pregnancies that take that huge toll. Apparently, you can destroy your person just a little more every time.

It's not that I'm knocking motherhood at all. It's not the kids' fault I like food, and my fave "activity" is reading, preferably curled up in a chair with a blanket and hot tea. Live like a hobbit, look like a hobbit.

We purchased a treadmill off Craigslist recently, and I'm trying to put it to good use. I always forget how much good exercising does me. Not just physically, but mentally. I have a tendency to depression, and all the endorphins help my black moods immensely. I KNOW that mentally. But some part of me inside is always telling me it's not worth it, and I'd much rather nap.