After delivering Ellie I decided I was going to try to get back in shape. This is a much harder task than it should be considering the following...
- I am one of those people who believe that there is no reason to run unless you are being chased by someone or something.
- I have 2 children, my life revolves around them, so finding time to work out is a lot easier said than done.
- I am a habit eater. For those of you who don't know what that is, it means that I eat not only out of boredom, but simply because it is there, and I snack simply because it is a certain time of day that I am used to eating.
- My weakness is chocolate, and carbs are like a demon with a damn convincing reason why I should come over to the dark side..
Now I have been making an effort to get to the gym, I have been attemting to use self control, and trying to eat healthier things when I just want to snack for the hell of it...I am doing all of this for me, not for anyone else. Honestly other than my husband I could not really care less what someone elses opinion of my weight is. But seriously?? I am a size 10, granted MUCH larger than I was in highschool, but I am not a big person. I do not think that I am disgusting when I look in the mirror or anything of the sort. I just know that I could afford to lose a little weight and be more toned. And doing all of this would make me feel more comfortable.
So why is it that the doctor is telling me I am "slightly obese"? Have they lost their friggin' minds?
No offense to those of you out there who are stick thin, all the more power to you! but... Why should I have to feel uncomfortable wearing a close fitted shirt because I actually have breasts and some meat on my bones? Or hear comments from people in the store walking by about my tight jeans.. I had a big butt when I was a size 1, did you really think it was going to go away when I put on some weight? There are millions of people out there who DO have weight problems and they have no shame in the world about wearing spandex and bikinis. I have not only 1, but several good reasons for my extra weight.. (their names are JT, Ellie, Ian and an effed up thyroid) and yet I am the one who is ashamed?
I have a theory that if everyone walked around completely naked that less people would get picked on for image. This way models would not be airbrushed to fool us all into thinking their bodies are perfect.. cause hunny they have stretchmarks from their babies too,OH and hello cellulite, glad to know you visit someone else sometimes too! So if models, the same people we are looking at to depict what we "should" look like have to be airbrushed, what do you think the lady standing in front of you in line looks like? It is a shame that we have to be so self concious about our bodies around the people we love simply for fear of someone realizing we are not perfect...
The people who are judging us have their own imperfections.. they scrutinize themselves in the mirror too. I love my children with all my heart, they are the best things I have ever done, and I am proud of them.. So while I work my inner thighs and flabby arms away at the gym until summer... I know that I am not blessed with a perfect body, I am blessed with imperfections as a reminder of my best work... and this summer.. I plan to wear my bright purple stretchmarks with pride. If you don't like it, look the other direction.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Do I smell poop or did I forget deodorant again?
Ponytail holder, hair tie, hair band... I don't care what you call it, I call it an everyday essential. Seriously, how many times have I thrown my hair up in a ponytail, messy or neat, and walked out of the door since becoming a mom? I think it would be easier to count the times my overpriced blowdryer and hair straightener have been used since the day I found out I was pregnant with JT.
I swore as a teen looking at young moms that I was not going to do that. That I would never go out in sweats and a baggy stained t-shirt without make-up on. I was going to be one of those pretty glowing pregnant women in magazines. I was going to eat right, wear cute maternity clothes, continue wearing my heels, show off that belly. PFFT. That went out the window when morning sickness rolled around for the first time. Nobody told me that the only thing I could keep down would be lollipops and dry toast. Or that the only time I would sleep would be with the help of some benedryl or tylenol PM. I'm sorry but when you have been awake for weeks on end with small naps between toilet huggings and feet propping, a stained t-shirt is the equivelent of a little black dress. Besides, at that point, no amount of makeup and shiny material will draw away from the heavy bags under your eyes from crying over everything you come across anyways,(seriously I cried everytime I watched The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. WHO DOES THAT?) so why waste the time? I was also going to be one of those moms whose children never went out in anything but the best clothing and always matched (a task I might add is much easier to do when you can keep your eyes open long enough to pay attention to the color shirt you just put on your child.. and of course it's backwards... effing GREAT) with brushed hair and clean faces.
Since those days I have learned that occassionally you grab the only thing that has not been spit up on, used as a snot rag, spilled on etc. for a quick run to the store. (Hell it's Walmart anyways, maybe I will make it into one of those trashy e-mails that get sent around the world compiled of the ridiculous things people get caught wearing.) Now these are not neccesarily a requirement for the clothing you are putting on yourself, because when on earth was the last time that mountain growing in the bedroom made it into the washer anyways? If you leave your hair down it will get pulled on, used as a toy... occassionally a chew toy (gotta love teething babies) mysteriously wet, or so far my favorite... you will find some unidentifiable food like substance in the middle of a knot worthy of just saying to hell with it and growing dreads. Makeup would be nice yes, but why bother spending the time when you are going to have to wash your face 10 minutes later because your wonderfully cute wobbling toddler decided to wipe some sort of stickyness on it after tricking you into getting that close by pretending to want a kiss. The kiss probably would have ruined it anyways now that you look closer because there are somehow dried boogers and snot globs stuck in his hair. Not that it matters because the baby just added a new accessory to your only clean shirt... Is that pee or did she spit up? (eh.. it'll dry before I get there.)
So I apologize on behalf of all moms to those of you without children for our appearance sometimes... the way I see it is this... My little ones sees me as their hero no matter what I am wearing, how my hair is styled or what I smell like. (Now if only my husband went by these standards.) So if you happen to see me out at the store frantically searching for something in the wrong aisle while yelling at a toddler to get back here and carrying a carseat that is the size of a small yacht, do me a favor. Grit your teeth, breathe through your mouth, tell me I look great, and pretend it never happened, because believe me I have looked and smelled worse, and one day this might be you. And if for whatever reason you feel compelled to tell me the truth, follow it up with how cute my kids are and I will not even remember you said anything by the time you walk away.
I swore as a teen looking at young moms that I was not going to do that. That I would never go out in sweats and a baggy stained t-shirt without make-up on. I was going to be one of those pretty glowing pregnant women in magazines. I was going to eat right, wear cute maternity clothes, continue wearing my heels, show off that belly. PFFT. That went out the window when morning sickness rolled around for the first time. Nobody told me that the only thing I could keep down would be lollipops and dry toast. Or that the only time I would sleep would be with the help of some benedryl or tylenol PM. I'm sorry but when you have been awake for weeks on end with small naps between toilet huggings and feet propping, a stained t-shirt is the equivelent of a little black dress. Besides, at that point, no amount of makeup and shiny material will draw away from the heavy bags under your eyes from crying over everything you come across anyways,(seriously I cried everytime I watched The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. WHO DOES THAT?) so why waste the time? I was also going to be one of those moms whose children never went out in anything but the best clothing and always matched (a task I might add is much easier to do when you can keep your eyes open long enough to pay attention to the color shirt you just put on your child.. and of course it's backwards... effing GREAT) with brushed hair and clean faces.
Since those days I have learned that occassionally you grab the only thing that has not been spit up on, used as a snot rag, spilled on etc. for a quick run to the store. (Hell it's Walmart anyways, maybe I will make it into one of those trashy e-mails that get sent around the world compiled of the ridiculous things people get caught wearing.) Now these are not neccesarily a requirement for the clothing you are putting on yourself, because when on earth was the last time that mountain growing in the bedroom made it into the washer anyways? If you leave your hair down it will get pulled on, used as a toy... occassionally a chew toy (gotta love teething babies) mysteriously wet, or so far my favorite... you will find some unidentifiable food like substance in the middle of a knot worthy of just saying to hell with it and growing dreads. Makeup would be nice yes, but why bother spending the time when you are going to have to wash your face 10 minutes later because your wonderfully cute wobbling toddler decided to wipe some sort of stickyness on it after tricking you into getting that close by pretending to want a kiss. The kiss probably would have ruined it anyways now that you look closer because there are somehow dried boogers and snot globs stuck in his hair. Not that it matters because the baby just added a new accessory to your only clean shirt... Is that pee or did she spit up? (eh.. it'll dry before I get there.)
So I apologize on behalf of all moms to those of you without children for our appearance sometimes... the way I see it is this... My little ones sees me as their hero no matter what I am wearing, how my hair is styled or what I smell like. (Now if only my husband went by these standards.) So if you happen to see me out at the store frantically searching for something in the wrong aisle while yelling at a toddler to get back here and carrying a carseat that is the size of a small yacht, do me a favor. Grit your teeth, breathe through your mouth, tell me I look great, and pretend it never happened, because believe me I have looked and smelled worse, and one day this might be you. And if for whatever reason you feel compelled to tell me the truth, follow it up with how cute my kids are and I will not even remember you said anything by the time you walk away.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
All Grown Up
I sit here today trying to write my first ever blog. I have been wanting to do something like this for a while and honestly am just not technologically savy enough to figure it out until now. I plan on being honest, not only about my past, but about everyday life. My grammar may not always be perfect, my language on days may not be proper, and frankly I may be touching on some taboo topics, such is life.
Before I dive in let me explain a little about myself and where all this is coming from.
I am 24, I am married and I have 2 children. My son James (JT) is 19 months. My daughter Ellie is 2 months. I have a dog (more along the lines of a pain in the butt rat) named Cookie and an even larger pain in the rear cat named Peaches. I am a stay at home mom. The last time I had a job I was 22 and 7 months pregnant with my son. My husband, Ian is great. He works hard so that I can stay home with the kids, and in addition to his everyday job we have a side business.
I feel like I woke up one day and adulthood had smacked me in the face... HARD. I remember my dad telling me a lot that I should stop trying to grow up so fast. Apparently I was totally boy crazy and although I hardly got in trouble I wanted more responsibility and privileges than I needed at my age. Sometime during the normal fights between a teenage girl and her parents I actually grew up. All of a sudden I am a mom, I have pets, bills, cars and a house to care for.
I remember listening to the stories about having children, I clearly remember all the horrible details of sex ed (mainly the gross stuff that they tell teenagers to convince them abstenence is the way to go) I remember watching the videos of child birth, I remember the talks about bills and responsibilities and my older cousins telling me that growing up is not all it's cracked up to be. Somehow through all of this I still maintained my want for the traditional family, which I did NOT have growing up.) I also still wanted lots and lots of babies (preferably 3 hell raising boys who would tear up my furniture and make me rip my hair out---- Sorry Ellie)
Though I clearly remember all of that stuff, I am pretty sure there are lots of things that I was NOT told. This blog is sort of a way to explore those subjects and for those of you who don't have children, let you know that the parents who glorify the experience... well they are full of shit. Here is my version of reality. I hope you enjoy it.
Before I dive in let me explain a little about myself and where all this is coming from.
I am 24, I am married and I have 2 children. My son James (JT) is 19 months. My daughter Ellie is 2 months. I have a dog (more along the lines of a pain in the butt rat) named Cookie and an even larger pain in the rear cat named Peaches. I am a stay at home mom. The last time I had a job I was 22 and 7 months pregnant with my son. My husband, Ian is great. He works hard so that I can stay home with the kids, and in addition to his everyday job we have a side business.
I feel like I woke up one day and adulthood had smacked me in the face... HARD. I remember my dad telling me a lot that I should stop trying to grow up so fast. Apparently I was totally boy crazy and although I hardly got in trouble I wanted more responsibility and privileges than I needed at my age. Sometime during the normal fights between a teenage girl and her parents I actually grew up. All of a sudden I am a mom, I have pets, bills, cars and a house to care for.
I remember listening to the stories about having children, I clearly remember all the horrible details of sex ed (mainly the gross stuff that they tell teenagers to convince them abstenence is the way to go) I remember watching the videos of child birth, I remember the talks about bills and responsibilities and my older cousins telling me that growing up is not all it's cracked up to be. Somehow through all of this I still maintained my want for the traditional family, which I did NOT have growing up.) I also still wanted lots and lots of babies (preferably 3 hell raising boys who would tear up my furniture and make me rip my hair out---- Sorry Ellie)
Though I clearly remember all of that stuff, I am pretty sure there are lots of things that I was NOT told. This blog is sort of a way to explore those subjects and for those of you who don't have children, let you know that the parents who glorify the experience... well they are full of shit. Here is my version of reality. I hope you enjoy it.
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