When I first found out I was pregnant and due in May, I vowed to myself and Puff that I would be back into single digit pants by September. That gave me 3+ months to accomplish that goal. Totally doable, right?
This was me last August, during our romantic getaway weekend to Charlotte. (HERE)
What a difference a year makes! My boobs are still 2 cup sizes too big to fit back into that bikini top. Yes, I've tried.
Here's me in Florida at about 6 weeks post-partum...
I was down a whopping 29 pounds (from the 48 I accumulated during the pregnancy) and felt like I was on track to reach my goal. The weight had just sorta fallen off, without much effort. (You can read about my progress to that point HERE.)
But where am I after 12 weeks? Eh... not anywhere close to where I need to be.
I never realized how hard it would be to fit in time to exercise and eat right with a little one. Bimmer and I take daily walks around the neighborhood for 20 to 30 minutes, unless it's raining or we have a morning appointment. I have a Slim Fast shake for breakfast and a sensible dinner. But it's all those lost minutes of NOT being on the elliptical or doing crunches. It's all those times I have to eat handfuls of Frito's for lunch, since eating fruit or a sandwich requires two hands and I just sometimes don't have that option. It's all that lost will power when I'm at a restaurant and can't resist ordering a Coke. Or eating all the breadsticks they bring to the table.
So, at 10 weeks post-partum, I set a goal. I was stuck at 29 pounds down, stuck at 1X4 pounds. (Yeah, I'm not divulging my actual weight. Sorry!) I aimed to be down those random 4 pounds by the end of week 12. I was going to try to eat better and have Puff watch the baby at night so I could get on the elliptical. I figured it was a reachable goal. I was determined.
And I met my goal.
And exceeded it. By a pound.
So, now down to 1X9 pounds, I am setting a goal of being down 4 more pounds by the end of week 14. I am tired of wearing maternity shorts that give me camel-toe. I want to actually wear something with a button. (I did, in fact, try on a pair of size 8 shorts yesterday that I did manage to button. Never mind there was a ridiculously noticable, and socially unacceptable, muffin-top happening. I did not wear them out in public. I have some dignity.)
Please remind me of this when I am back to work and bitching about having to wear dress clothes. Remind me that I once got tired of wearing my PJs all day. And remind me how stupid I was to say that out loud.