This week was all about the wiggly, jiggly facts. If I'm to take the pants half empty perspective on things, I'm not doing half bad. Two years ago I was just finishing my first week of Weight Watchers, and having weighed in at 206 pounds, I was looking at a downward journey of 60 pounds. I really had so little faith that I would actually succeed. After all, the last fifteen years had been full of countless failed attempts, and my relationship with exercise could be described as volatile, at best. Two years ago, my blog titled "Jitsu of the Plus-Sized Momma" crowed over the fact that I had walked SIX WHOLE MILES over the course of the week, and very sheepishly shared the future aspiration of possibly (be still my heart!) RUNNING!
Almost two years later, I have experienced so much. Sixty pounds lost. From a size 20 to an 8. From a breathless walker to a half-marathoner and Zumba addict. In a nutshell, for once, I SUCCEEDED. And I am still succeeding. Not because I've arrived, because I've stopped giving in to the occasional temptation, because I've stopped loving dessert, because I don't still really deep-down want the biggest piece of meat on the platter, or because my food psychosis no longer requires a very long couch. I am still succeeding because I haven't given up on good health, and at least some of what I've learned seems to have stuck.
Last Tuesday, I drop-kicked the sugar habit, sucked in the gut, and got on the scale. When I found out I was expecting my most recent arrival, I was floating between 146 and 148 pounds. At my last doctor's visit, which was four days before Noah was born, I weighed 199 pounds. My goal had been a 35 pound weight gain, so obviously I had overstepped the mark a little bit. It probably had something to do with a low iron level and excessive cravings for cheeseburgers and braunsweiger in my first trimester. Yes, the braunsweiger probably had a lot to do with it.
Anyway, I forgave myself quickly, when one week after d-day, I had lost 17 pounds and found I could pack away my maternity clothes and slide back into a size large/14 wardrobe. Considering, I spent the six months after my last two pregnancies wearing maternity clothes because they were all that would fit, I was outrageously happy! In fact, I even lost another 5 pouns in the next week! I was feeling pretty cocky, but then Santa brought on the Christmas cookies. Ha, ha, ha. Or should I say ho, ho, ho. Regardless, the jolly man in red must not have left any coal in my shoes because when I got on the scale, I was still 22 pounds lighter than I had been before my little sack of joy shot down the chimney. After all I had eaten, it had to be a Christmas miracle.
So on with the wiggly, jiggly facts. Last week, I weighed in at 177 pounds. I stuck to my guns and stayed on target with points; I only ate three desserts all week long--a small slice of pie, a kiddie cone from McDonald's, and four tea sized cookies after Sunday lunch. I lost two pounds. Twenty-nine to go. Still to come: what it's like to actually be HEALTHY during a pregnancy, goals for the gym, stuff I'm still struggling with, new goals I'm setting for myself as a healthy momma, how all this has effected my kids, the little stuff that seems to be helping at the moment, and as you've all come to expect, a whole lot of laughs along the way!