It's ON...Sort Of

For the past nine months or so, I've been eating for two. And by "eating for two" I mean "eating for two big burly Sumo wrestlers who have that weird disorder where they never feel full." Just as I promised myself I wouldn't, I gained a painful 70+ pounds during this pregnancy. Unfortunately, when Coby came out, he was 9 pounds, not 60 as I had hoped. So I can't exactly blame the "baby weight" on the baby ... damn it. If we're gonna be honest here, I think the blame lies more with myself. And, of course, the help of two guys named Ben and Jerry. Damn them and their delicious ice cream.

It's so easy to pile on the pounds during pregnancy, though. At least for me it is. I really am always ravenous, right from the first trimester - it's like my version of morning sickness is just extreme hunger. The only way to cure it is to eat. And nobody notices that my ass, hips, and thighs are widening at a frightening pace when my belly looks like I'm smuggling a Volkswagen.

But then I have the baby. And the stomach diminishes. And, whoa! Look what was going on underneath that belly ... construction of a new pair of thunder thighs! Needless to say, I do not relish my new pear shape.

It's really hard for me to deal with, because I used to be damn cute. My first pregnancy absolutely wrecked my body, though. I can lose the weight - I lost 90 pounds within six months of having Cameron - but the stretchmarks? If you've been reading my blog for a while, you already know that my once-sexy stomach serves as a cautionary tale.

(Side note: God bless Curtis, who has seen - and loved - both my pre- and post-baby body!)

Anyway, we may or may not be done having kids ... we can't exactly decide at this point. But I do know this: if I ever have another one, it won't be for at least four years, when my other kids are more self-sufficient (because as I've learned in the past eleven days, having two babies barely 19 months apart is not the easiest thing). So that gives me four years to go from "hot mess" to "hot mom" again.

I'm not starting hardcore on my diet right at this minute. Because I know that, after eating everything in sight pretty much whatever I want for the past 9 months, jumping into a severely restricted diet will only set me up for failure. But I'm easing into it. I have managed to fight off the urge to bake, for example, which is a huge triumph. I'm trying to cut down on my portion sizes and drinking fewery sugary beverages (I am mourning the loss of my sweet tea as we speak). I'm getting a gym membership, because I truly do enjoy working out. And I'm breastfeeding (see here if you want the back story on that) which burns like 500 extra calories a day or something.

In the meantime, it's high time I started appreciating what I do have. Yeah, I loathe my body in its present state, but I might as well fix it up as nicely as I can ... it's the only one I have, and it has produced three beautiful sons, so I can't be hatin' on it too much. I'm going to start paying more attention to my hair and nails and skin and all, and make everything look as decent as it possibly can. I may feel like I'm shining up a clunker, but I'm sure it will make me feel better.

So it begins. I've been doing this blog since I was three months pregnant. Now, for the first time, I am OFFICIALLY, really and truly "fighting off frumpy."

Who's with me?!?