Joining the Gym.
We moved at the very end of August, and when we left our apartment, we also left behind our gym. Lovely, right-there-in-the-building gym that was easy to get to because it didn't require getting into the car and trekking across town. I worked out for the majority of my pregnancy, thanks to this gym, and only stopped when pre-eclampsia started to make my body its home.
Yesterday morning, I weighed myself and saw that I'm back to my pre-pregnancy weight, numbers-wise.
"Whaaaa?" I said, looking into the mirror and assessing the various areas of squish. "This is not how I looked before that little biscuit of a BSparl arrived."
Weight, for me, has never been a numbers game. I've never cared in the least about what winks back at me from the scale, but more how my clothes actually fit. Over the years, my weight has fluctuated due to muscle mass, stress, season (summer = ice cream), and work schedules, but overall, I've remained the same general size.
But when BSparl came into town? (And by town I mean "uterus.") Chaos. My body has taken on shapes I have never seen before. Contents definitely shifted during landing, and I'm looking at a whole new me when I see myself in the mirror. And honestly, I'm not the biggest fan of what I see.
Some things, I'm fine with. Like the scar from the c-section. It's a sizable sucker, but it's proof positive that my baby came from my body, and I'm reminded of that every time I see her. Some women call it a badge of honor. I'll take that. The stretch marks? I'm less snuggly with those, but every week they fade a little more and every week I notice them a little less. (And Palmer's cocoa butter helps.)
Other changes in my body can be filed under "changeable," and now that BSparl is five months old, we've moved, and my travel schedule is about to lighten up over the holidays, I'm fixin' (nod to NBF) to get myself back into shape.
So last night, I joined a gym. And I worked out for the first time since we moved into our house. Granted, it wasn't the most aggressive of workouts, but I was there. I spent 45 minutes on the cardio circuit, and even though my weight didn't shift even a smidge, I felt worlds better when I left. Like I wasn't just sitting at home, wishing I was making a change. There I was - making it.
At the end of December, I'll be in Marco Island with my family and my extended CWD family (including my daughter's favorite spit up target, Mr. Scott Johnson), and I want to feel good about how I look when I'm there. I have three months to reign things in, and I know that - for me - with exercise comes better diabetes control.
Hear that, Larry? You thought you shook me off for the last few months? Pfffft. I'm comin' for you.