I've realized something recently, something quite shocking. It's...well, it's complicated, so let me walk you through it here.
Remember back when I did 5 Full Plates with the brilliant and talented crew over there? (Btw, Lydia? TOTALLY landed a book deal last month. And is in Italy this month. I now officially want to be Lydia when I grow up.) Well, at the end of the initial weight loss challenge, I was down something paltry like 6 pounds and change. Very nearly 7, is how I liked to think of it. Practically 10. Look, something shiny!
And then life was haaaard, you know, unlike everyone else's life, always. I had Struggles, and I Felt Sorry for myself. And I regained most of the weight. Meh. And then Christmas happened. And...uh, I don't know. I bobbed along at roughly the same weight, thinking mildly, I should probably put this cookie down and do something about that. News flash: mild thinking does not promote weight loss. I know, I was shocked too.
And then I went back to school last semester, and that meant I could only make it to the gym once a week. Do you know how fun it is to work out once a week? Not. It is not fun. You don't feel like you're achieving anything - because you aren't. I would meander in for my once-weekly gym time, prop a magazine on some cardio machine, and casually flail about for a while. Just long enough to bring the daintiest sort of dew to my brow, really. Then I would get bored (seriously, danty dew? as if), and wander away.
During this time period I vaguely knew I was gaining weight (do you like how my awareness of it is "vague" despite the fact that I weigh myself every morning and often after every time I use the facilities? Brilliant), but I wasn't sure EXACTLY how much, because our old scale died, and the new scale is sort of squirrelly. It will give me readings that are four pounds apart in the same minute. So I would still weigh myself frequently, but then I would just maturely flip off the scale and wander away, ignoring the actual numbers there.
When I worried about my weight, I told myself that I would DEAL with that once the sememster is over, and in the meantime, have you heard that Starbucks has cake pops? DUDE.
Well, the semester is over, and it was time to face the music. Pay the piper. Assess the actual...problem.
The other day I pulled up my old FitDay account, which I have apparently not even glanced at in A YEAR. I put in my actual, current weight, and clicked on the graph to show me my weight change.
Since the end of the weight challenge on FFP, I have gained Twelve. Point. Three. Pounds.
This was not...welcome news. I sort of panicked.
Since then, I have been hitting the gym at every opportunity, going for walks and bike rides when possible, turning down nearly 2/3 of the ice cream offered to me, and swilling green tea like it's going out of style. I believe that this will be okay eventually, but right now I'm mired in the knowledge that no one has been following me all these months, that was MY OWN BUTT.
Today Clay announced that he was taking the kids to the pool, and he hoped I would come with them. To be honest, my first response was disappointment. Usually a trip to the pool mid-week means MAMA ALONE TIME!! But I can't just ignore a pointed invitation from my husband, so I swallowed hard, and then decided to one-up him.
"Of course I'll come! AND..." dramatic pause,"...I will SWIM."
I would tell you that my announcement was met with shock and amazement, except that no one believed me. I can't remember the last time I actually went swimming at the pool.
But I showed them. Right after lunch I wriggled into my swimsuit, marched blindly past the mirror, and went to the pool with my family. And here is what I and my 12.3 (at least) pounds of extra weight learned at the pool today:
1) My swimsuit, which is actually a ridiculous swim dress, seems brand new. I bought it five years ago, and the only reason I remember that is because I was shopping for swimsuits when Clay cut off his finger. And every year I bring it out of storage in the spring and put it back in the fall, and completely ignore it inbetween. That seems just silly.
2) Ridiculous swim dresses are made for fooling you into believing that you are not actually displaying your body at the pool. They are not so much made for swimming, because they forever float up and tickle the undersides of your arms and make you look like you're being menaced by a pink-spotted black sea creature.
3) And if you're actually worried about displaying your body at the pool, you should get in the water. Not only is it hard to judge exactly what formation of flesh you're carrying under the surface, the people in the pool are having fun, and they don't really care.
4) You too - yes, even you - can be having enough fun in the water that you don't even care.
When we were packing up to go home, all pink eyes and goofy hair, Raphael plopped down in the middle of the chaos of snacks and shoes and sighed, "I just love it when the whole family swims like this."
Can you see how he was totally fixated on my weight? Yeah, I know. For a little while, even I wasn't fixated on my weight. It was good.
And you know what? I didn't even look that bad! See, I'll show you: