Hi my name is … Mom

Five months later and 20lbs lighter, I am happy to report that I feel the inner babe that had been lost for so long has finally been found.  I enjoy shopping again.  I enjoy going out with my slightly younger and stretchmark free friends without feeling frumpy.   I know that it may be politically incorrect, but I am happier and more confident when I feel attractive.  Any woman who says her self esteem is not wrapped up in her physical appearance is, more often than not, unhappy with her physical appearance.

I’d like to wax philosphical about how my more muscular body makes me feel powerful and how I did it so I would have more energy to play with my kids, but that would be a lie.  I did it to look good in a bikini and wear smaller pants.  (sorry to disappoint you)  I also did it to be more desireable to my husband because, although he would never admit it, he is more attracted to me when I look good (crazy huh?).

I guess my one Oprah revelation from this whole experience would be that I deserve to have everything I want.  If I want to have time to do something for myself, I should make time.  I know to some people, waking up at 5am to go to the gym may sound like torture.  To me, this is my only time to do something just for me.  I deserve to feel good about my body and treat it with respect.  This body created and carried two of my favorite humans in the universe and it deserves to be cared for. 

Five years ago I married a sexy, wonderful man.  I deserve to feel desired by him.  If I don’t like the way I look, I don’t feel sexy.  Believe me, sex is much more enjoyable when you feel sexy. 

Tune in next time and I’ll tell you how I did it. 

Over the past 4 years, I have been either pregnant, recovering from being pregnant, or trying to get pregnant.  Now that my tubes are tied and my milk has dried up, I feel like I am ready to reclaim my former babe status. 

Since Thanksgiving, I have been hard at work trying to loose the baby weight.  Hell, lets call a spade a spade, I didn’t give birth to a 25 lb baby.  Let’s call it my potato chip, bean burrito (I live in Southern California), and ice cream weight. 

After the birth of my first child, I had pretty much resigned myself to the notion that I was never going to be one of those moms that we all hate.  The ones in the perfectly coordinated gym attire and the tight bodies that suggest that their equally perfectly groomed children were not only taked care of exclusively by nannies but were birthed via surrogate mother.  I thought, my husband loves me just the way I am.  I don’t have the luxury of a 60 minute workout.  I have too much to do.  I give up.

Deep down, I didn’t want to give up.  I am not ashamed to admit that I do not like the way I look when I am overweight.  Yes ladies, I am vain.  Deal with it.  When I am beyond what I call my “happy weight” I don’t enjoy getting dressed or getting undressed for that matter.  Don’t get me wrong, I have never been “skinny” and my “happy weight” does not equal physical perfection.  It equals feeling sexy when I am out with my husband when I catch him “checking me out”.  It equals feeling like my boys are going to be proud to introduce me as their mother.  It equals putting my own health on my “to do” list because I love myself enough to make the time.