Super Noob:
Fitness

**My nursing cover giveaway ends today...enter if you haven't...winner announced tomorrow**
I am sitting here depleted of energy, thoughts, emotions. The well has run dry. Not truly, but that is my overall demeanor as I type. I have just come home from the gym. From a workout the likes of which I haven't had in a long time. I mean it. My husband has been going to a personal trainer, and tonight I went in his place. I will be continuing to go in his place for a month...if I make it that long.
On my way home from the gym I was thinking about how this has to make the change that has eluded me thus far. If it doesn't, nothing will. Of this I am certain. Then, I started thinking about the fact that it never seems to be enough. Never. I don't know that I will ever be satisfied with my body. Always five more pounds, then tone this more, and shape this more, and on and on and on.
Prior to my first pregancy I was in good shape by my own standards and great shape by other's. In fact, here is a picture of me when I was 12 weeks pregnant with Addyson.

I look at it this and I long to look like that today. My breasts weren't to my knees, and no muffin top existed. Yet, at that point in time (well, before I was pregant...but this is the only pic I have that bares it all for that time) I wasn't happy about how I looked. Oh, most days I felt pretty good. I was fit, I worked out at least 5 days each week, and my clothes fit me well. But I didn't like my legs, and my butt needed to shed a layer. I could smack my former self right about now.
Today, two kids in rapid succession later, I am struggling to get that body back. I keep saying I have just ten more pounds to go when the reality is more like fifteen. I have been able to squeeze into some of my pre-pregnancy wardrobe, but not most of it...not even half of it. It's so depressing. So, now I am going to show you what I look like today. The picture was taken in February, and honestly I look at it and I know that some of you are going to say things like "you're crazy, you look fine." I can say that I look at the picture and I see that I look okay, but okay is not good enough. It's never enough.

I couldn't even bare to do the picture in a swim suit. So there I am...posing like a moron and smiling about it.Now, to be clear, the point of this post is not to beat on myself. I am working at getting myself back to where I feel comfortable. The point is that for so many of us, it's just never good enough. I believe it's great to live a healthy lifestyle, and be fit...but at what point do you say "Damn! I look good." (to yourself, of course). Why do so many of us struggle to be able to simply feel content with who we are today? There is so much more than the outward shell we present.
I'll tell you this...I mentioned that if this month with the trainer didn't start to make the change, then nothing would. I believe it, and I have made up my mind that it's okay. I'm okay. I'm perfectly flawed...and that's good enough.

Free day. That is Saturday for me. Not free day like: woo hoo...no kids, it's a free day. No. I am referring to food. I have mentioned before that I am on a quest to lose the last of my unwanted (though I have yet to meet a woman who refers to it any other way) weight. So as part of my quest I eat really well six days out of seven.

Then, on Saturday I allow myself to indulge. Typically this means I have whatever I want for dinner and a dessert. Sometimes, however, it means that I eat pretty badly most of the day and then I still have that dessert. Days like today. Days that have me waking up the next day with a junk food hangover. Days that have me vowing to never do that again. But I digress...a little.

Free day is the day that keeps me on track for the other six. Without it I would indulge here, and there, and here again. Those extra calories would sneak their way in without me realizing it, causing me to veer off course of my goal. My free day makes the other six as easy as...well, pie.

Eating well is really not that difficult, even for a self professed sweet addict, when you have a day to look forward to. For me, it sometimes even serves as a reminder day. A reminder of just how lousy I feel when I eat all that food devoid of any nutrition. It actually has me craving grilled salmon and roasted broccoli.

So I highly recommend this to you if you have a weight loss goal of your own. But...and it's a big but, you have to be diligent for the other six days. If free day was Saturday, then you have to ignore the doughnut that calls out like a siren song on Sunday. Ignore the voice that says "one won't hurt" when doling out snacks to the little ones. Just remember that you will have your day of carnage before long, then soon, you will be stepping into those "skinny" jeans.

I have been on this quest to lose the rest of my I shoved everything I could get my hands on into my face baby weight. Let me clarify one point here while I am at it. The weight I still have to lose is from my first child. After number two, I was back to pre-baby #2 weight within six months. My daughter was nine months old when I conceived my son, and needless to say, I was not back to my old self yet. Now I am within ten pounds (8.5 to be precise), and the going is so so so slow.

I weight train three times each week and I do my cardio an additional three times (okay, if I am being honest I do it twice with all intentions of doing it three). One thing I do not like to do is run. Oh I was on this little running kick a while back and I slowly increased my ability to run from like half a mile to about three miles. However, it was not helping me shed the weight any faster, and as I mentioned...I do not enjoy running. When I hear my friend talk about the "runner's high" I look at her as if she amazingly just began speaking Russian. I don't get it. I can appreciate how the body emits endorphins which create that (elusive for me) runner's high...but I still don't get it. I mean it literally, it doesn't happen for me.

This all leads me to where this is coming from to begin with. I went running tonight. Yes, I made a conscious decision to self torture. Not two minutes into the run my knees start to ache, and my breath is coming out in huffs strong enough to sway the tree branches as I pass. Really...I saw them move. All this in the name of my last few vanity pounds.

Now here's the deal...I have not ever had a skinny build. I have an athletic frame (and no, that doesn't mean heavy). My closest friend is super tall and super thin, and you look at her and say "she's a runner." Currently I can look at myself in the mirror, and while I sometimes see a glimpse of my former self, I mostly say "she's a cookie eater." Except I'm not. Well, not all the time anyway. I only allow myself indulgences one day each week. But for honesty's sake, I must admit that sometimes on that one day each week, I way overindulge. Not every time, but at least one third of the time.

Running. Sigh. Running and I are not friends, but we are going to have to at least learn to live together for a little while. Because one way or another, I will wear all my clothes again. I don't care if by the time I fit in them, they are no longer in style. I will walk out of the house in my vintage clothes with my head held high. Men will sing the song "Baby's Got Her Blue Jeans On" as I walk by. Er...okay, at the very least my husband will sing that song ;) Until then, get used to me, running because I am moving in for a while.