I had been feeling pretty good about myself with my steady weight loss, but that was before I tried on a pair of my pre-pregnancy jeans. Bad idea. Let's just say my overly expressive "muffin top" was the least of my concerns. After that I made another poor decision to try on my pre-pregnancy work out clothes. I mean, they're stretchy, right? Ha. Reluctantly I reclaimed my pregnancy yoga pants and headed to the gym.
There's nothing like a gym to remind you how out of shape you really are. Fah-lump, fah-lump, fah-lump.... If the way my body feels on a treadmill made a sound, that would be it. Everything bounces. Really. Reminds me of the time I was 14 and doing jumping jacks when my cousin walked in and started to laugh. "Your stomach moves more than your boobs!" he said, still laughing his head off. Of course now with these breastfeeding boobies, it doesn't matter how much my stomach moves, they will always move more. Take that!
Gyms intimidate me even when I'm in shape, so making myself go in my saggy, enlarged, cellulite covered state is quite the hurdle. What with all those beautifully toned people who stare at you as you sloth by, using their eyes to say things like, Why are you here, you hopeless sack of flesh? I've decided the only way to make myself do it is to go every day until I am no longer uncomfortable. I'm not sure how well that theory is working, but with all those mirrors I must say I am more motivated than ever to get my body back. I wish I could go back in time to my 21 year old self and slap me in the face! Really that's what I deserved for judging my body so harshly. If only I knew how good I had it. If only.