Clockwork Fat
It's been awhile since I've blogged on this forum---the world of Mommylu has been all consuming. But since my daughter's pediatrician called me fat this week, I have finally found it necessary to return to my old, beloved, non-mommy-related blog topic----weight.
I have been feeling absolutely crummy about my weight since I gave birth, primarily because I was so good about not gaining in an out-of-control fashion while I was pregnant, but now I seem to be ballooning. I left the birth five pounds lighter than I started, and I have now gained almost 30 lbs back. That's right, kiddos. Thirty pounds in four months. It's some kind of crazy record, I'm sure. All this while I've been gaining this weight, I've been feeling that I never get an actual meal in anymore---I am constantly throwing food in my face whenever I have a free hand or a free moment, as I never know when that occasion will happen again.
Being told how grossly overweight you are by a 70-pound, 4' 8" sprite posing as a doctor has sent me spiraling. I feel so heavy all the time, and almost nothing I own fits me, not even my winter coats. I'm the biggest I've ever been, and it's completely freaking me out. I can't believe it---I'm so angry at myself after all the hard work I did the year before I got pregnant to reform my lifestyle. I had lost 40+ pounds when I got pregnant, was a regular gym attendee, was staying away from trouble foods without being a maniac, and most important, truly believed for the first time in my life that a healthy body and a balanced lifestyle were within my grasp. I could make it happen, after a life of feeling that I would always, always be the one out of breath. As soon as I had grasped this, I stopped caring about how I looked, about how others perceived me, and focused on doing things that made me feel healthy and whole.
Tonight, while talking, and crying, about how truly awful I feel, my husband and I laid the whole ugly mess out on the table. The truth is, I've been down since the birth. The birth was so truly horrific that I have been experiencing post-traumatic stress symptoms. I am falling more in love with my daughter every day, but oh, man, do I feel sad and alone often. Sad because this dream that I had for so long---the dream of having a child---came to me with these painful, frightening memories of my hospital stay. Alone from the new lifestyle of mommyhood, but more alone because I left my home of 9 years, got pregnant, and have had the opportunity to make only a few new friends and reconnect with a few old friends since the relocation.
Add to this the 6-week ban on exercise, the 10-week ban on doing "anything significant with [my] abdominal muscles" (as if I know which exercises those are, specifically) the healing from surgery, the nightmare of a nursing experience, the fatigue from sleeplessness, the horrible cold I keep fighting (and fighting, and fighting)---well, let's just say I'm not maintaining a healthy exercise regime. I'm just trying to survive.
In other words, given my history, how could I not gain an obscene amount of weight across the past few months? Seriously?!? I wish I could say I was that tough, but I'm not. I feel at my most vulnerable right now, and I'm not afraid to admit it.
Tonight, I went into the archives of this blog to find some inspiration, because both my hubby and I think we need to set things in motion to turn this ship around. At roughly the same time a couple of years ago, I posted this to kick off my new commitment to myself. I am now reinstating the manifesto. I am not going to live in this shell any longer. I don't care that I have a baby and it's hard to make it out (especially going up and down 3 flights of stairs to our condo), I don't care that it's hard to have time to make healthy food or get to the gym. It will happen. It will happen because today I reminded myself that I am an extraordinary person, and four months is long enough to feel weak and tired and frightened. If that idiot of a doctor did anything for me, she did this---she said to me what I always say to myself. The moment I heard it come out of someone else's mouth, I was reminded how ugly it is. And that ugliness isn't going to live here anymore.
4 comments:
Love the manifesto! YOU GO GIRL! I know you can do it even better than you did last time! Maybe we can cheer each other on as I've fallen off the WW wagon HARD. Best of luck, Kori!!!!
Wish I was there already so we could hang out, not to mention trading childcare during workouts. My friend Jenny, who posted on your Mommy blog a couple of times about delayed-onset nursing, has always gone to a gym with childcare, and she goes friggin' 6 days a week. Because if you've got childcare waiting for you, and you're a long-hours stay-at-home mom, suddenly going to the gym sounds like a treat. Of course, you may not have that available to you. I know you'll do great however you work it out, and I know from your other blog that life with baby is getting to be lots of fun these days, so good on you.
The jogging stroller worked out well for Erik for awhile, although he has totally fallen off that wagon lately. Something about 14-hour workdays.
How sad (stupid doctor) and wonderful (new manifesto) this story is. It's so strange where we get our inspiration from, right?
The only other thing I wanted to put out there is to keep tabs on your down days. Before I knew what had happened, it had been 6 months, and my down days were more frequent then ever. They shouldn't have been there, but there they were. I was also still realing from bad hospital memories, bad nursing memories, feeling utterly alone, and doctors who always told me my daughter wasn't eating enough. Ugh. Too much. I needed help.
Bethatasitmay, I am totally proud of the way you are taking charge and changing things for you. You are an inspiration to me, and always have been!
that is a really inspiring post. I am more motivated to work on my own 20lbs that needs to come off.
good luck.
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