A Little Prenatal Yoga

First off, let me start by saying, I am by no means an expert on yoga (a yogini?). I'm not flexible, my body cringes every time I hear the words "downward dog", and every time someone say "childs pose" I think back to that scene from Forgetting Sarah Marshall (ya know, the one where he does the handstand?) and laugh myself silly.

After giving birth to my second child, before getting pregnant with my third, I was really focusing on my health. I was whipping my body into shape, transforming myself while the baby napped, sneaking off for C25K running dates three times a week, and getting a firm grip on my food allergies and diet. Everything was falling into place, my new healthy ways were sculpting me into a better person.

I continued to run through my first trimester, running a 4 mile race with my husband while I was 10 weeks pregnant. After that, I was done. Done with running, done with physical activity in general. I didn't say so out loud, but my napping in place of jogging said it clearly enough. When I asked for suggestions of what to do get back on the wagon, several of my friends had suggested doing prenatal yoga, and while I had never really done yoga before, its something I had always wanted to try, and I wanted to keep up with my fitness as much as possible.

Within a few days, I had a prenatal yoga DVD by Jennifer Wolfe, sitting in my mailbox, chanting "downward dog, downward dog" at me through the case. I rushed the package into the house, unwrapped it like a little girl opening a Barbie on Christmas... and then there it sat. For days. For weeks.

I was tired. I didn't want to move. Couldn't I count doing the dishes as being my workout. Downward dish? ...No?

So one night when I was feeling particularly feisty, I took a closer look at Jennifer Wolfe's Prenatal Vinyasa Yoga, unrolled my hot pink yoga mat (covered in pen marks, thanks to my daughter's friend), waited until the room cleared (go to bed, kids!), and got down to business.

I don't know what I was thinking, honestly, by starting off doing the 30 minute set, rather than the 15. Halfway through it, I collapsed on the floor in a fit of "I give up!", and then crawled myself up to the couch, where I fell asleep (I told you I was tired).

And there the video sat. Again. For days. For weeks. Only sometimes being brought to my attention with my 1 year old had gotten his hands on it and was carrying it around like a baby doll.

Finally, my second trimester rolled around. I started getting out of the house more- walking, instead of running. I got back in the habit of heavy duty housework. And then one day, while both of the babies were taking a nap at the same time (heavenly, those days are), I thought "15 minutes... thats all it takes. And man I've really got some stress to relieve". So I unrolled my pink yoga mat again, got situated in my comfy clothes, slid my shoes off, and hit play.

Boy, Jennifer sure didn't make this for beginners, did she? Thats ok, thats ok, a little extra concentration, maybe a peek at the tv every couple of seconds, and I'll be able to keep up, I reminded myself. I had watched the clip on modifications before I started, and who cares if I didn't keep up with the routine beat for beat- I could do this. No sweat.

Ok, well, maybe a little sweat, I guess.

I downward dog'd, I cat hunched my back, I lunged and warrior'd, and after 15 minutes of moving my thumbs together whenever Jennifer told me to- I HAD DONE IT.

I felt, so good. Like, stretched out in all of the places that had been begging to be stretched. I felt relaxed. I felt energized. I felt loose, and in shape. It was perfect. This Mama, likes yoga. Is it too early to say that I might even love it?

The next day I was sore, but in the best way possible. I couldn't wait to do the DVD again. Knowing how badly the 30 minute set had kicked my butt a few weeks before, I decided I'd stick to the 15 minute set (good call on that one), and a few days later, I did it again.

Here I am, 24 weeks pregnant, practically a pro at Jennifer's 15 minute short form (I just got done doing it again, after having one of those days, I really needed it. And it seriously melted away my frustrations, just like sticking chocolate in the microwave and then eating the entire bowl yourself. Only way healthier). I have no idea what half of the words in her vocabulary mean, but I know that after a single session with her, I'm left feeling aaah-mazing and almost like I'm floating away on a big pink fluffy yoga mat cloud. I don't do it as often as I should, although after every workout I say to myself "really, that only took 15 minutes, I totally have time for this every day".

I think in a week or two I'm going to graduate myself to the 30 minute program. I'm not so sure my weak arms can handle it, downward dog still kills me (I'm probably doing it wrong), but I'm sure going to try!

Our Very First Race

I would have never ever thought to myself, not in a million years, that I would run a race with my husband.

Do y'all remember my C25K journey, in which I forced myself off of the couch, and took the liberty to get out and get moving? I had always wanted to be a runner, and after 9 hard weeks of training with nobody other than my ipod and my Adidas, I was one.

Before I had found out that I was pregnant, Christopher had told me about a 4 mile race that takes place every year here on base. When we ran our 5k together a few months ago, it was just the two of us out on the track. There was no organized event, it was just something that I had wanted to do, so we went out and did it on a random week night, in the warm fall air. But this, this was an actual race- with people, and rules, and... "sign us up", I told him. And then I started training.

Even though the news of our recent pregnancy was a shock to both of us, it didn't cancel our plans for going out to the flight line together on January 15th, and pounding the pavement. "We'll still run", we agreed.

Of course I did my research, making sure that it was safe for a pregnant woman to run. As long as I wasn't starting a new workout routine, it was safe for me to continue on with the same level of exercise that I had been doing before. The only difference, that I'd soon learn the hard way, was that I had to go much, much slower. I'd have to keep my heart rate below 140 beats per minute, and the way I figured I'd keep tabs on that, was by my breathing. If I lost control of the rhythm of my breathing I'd know that I was pushing myself too hard. Not only that, but if I moved my body any quicker than a snail's pace, I'd start to hurt everywhere. I had to teach myself to run without twisting my torso with the teeter totter motion my swinging arms made, and had learn how to pace myself so slow that at times I wasn't sure if I was even running at all. I knew my legs were moving, but I was so sluggish that I had to concentrate on figuring out if it was more of a jumping power walk, or a jog. It was a cross between the two, I've decided.

The week before the run, I knew I had to push myself just a little bit farther than I had in the past, and farther than I probably should have. I ran 3.75 miles, as opposed to the usual 3 miles that I did (I used mapmyrun.com to keep track of my routes). When I got home, I warned Christopher that I might pass out, and leaned my exhausted body weight into the door, the wall, the chair- anything that would catch me while I tried recovering from my workout. Christopher asked me if I still wanted to go through with the run, and I assured him that no matter what- I was doing it. I know my body well, and I know when enough is enough. We agreed that it had probably been my lack of lunch, and maybe slight dehydration that had caused the exhaustion, and that I'd just have to prepare myself better when race day came...


On Friday, January 15th, we suited up, and headed out. Christopher is currently in Airman Leadership School, and it turned out that his entire class (42) was going to be running the race as well. Other than them, there were about 5 other people running, 2 of us being civilian. Can you imagine how out of place and intimidated I felt? I had to put that in both bold and italic type, because the stress of running my first race with a group of people that had been physically trained by professionals, and were required to keep up with it as part of their jobs, was enough to shut me down. While we stood around in the cold waiting for the last plane to land and clear the runway, my nerves calmed and I accepted the fact that everyone would be faster than me, and that was ok.

They explained the route to us. It made no sense to me. Alpha this, and Echo that. Runway this, turnaround that. Something about men in vests, cops and a red line- um... right. I figured since I would be last, I'd have no problem following everyone else. It would be impossible for me to get lost.

I had previously told Christopher that he didn't need to hold himself back for me, he could go ahead if he needed to. But I knew that no matter what I said to him, he'd make sure to do everything in his power, even if it meant tripping over his own feet, to stay behind with me at my pregnant civilian lady pace. And he did.

When the race started, everyone charged ahead of us. It was raining, the foggy misty kind of rain that isn't even in the form of droplets, but more like a constant blanket of moisture that swirls around you. It was windy, which caused the swirls to come and go in waves of different intensities, soaking our faces and weighing down our clothes. And it was cold. The temperature was probably around 45 degrees, but it might as well have been 20 with the water and wind added in. "They'll slow down", I thought, as I watched the group get farther and farther away from us.

The next thing I know, two men walking, with backpacks on, passed us. They cut us off when they took the short end of a corner (we took the long end, I had full intentions of doing this run the right way). We were officially last. Soon the gap between us and the rest of the group became wider. I looked over at Christopher, and just like I had predicted earlier, he was having a very hard time slowing himself down for me. His beat was off, his steps were uneven, he looked miserable. I thought "maybe I can speed up, just a little", already feeling uncomfortable at the pace I was going at... so I tried.

Pain.

Breathlessness.

Embarrassment.

Christopher and I both had headphones in, and hadn't said a word since the race had started less than a mile ago. As I watched the group through the fog up ahead in the distance, and choked on my lack of breath and nagging pain in my side... I made the decision to slow down. "I'm just not as fast as them", I reminded myself, "let them be faster".

We continued.

By now I was soaked. With every stomp that I made, my feet forced puddles to break apart and splash up into the air around my legs. Eventually my feet went numb, ankles too, and I didn't feel it anymore. When we changed directions at the halfway point, I had to take my glasses off. I couldn't see through the mist, and I couldn't continue to wipe my lenses clean. By now we were running on the actual runway, not just the flight line.

Without my glasses, the water was now falling directly into my eyes, and not that I could see anything in front of me anyways, I had to start watching the ground. I didn't know where we were, I couldn't see a single person ahead of us anymore, and all I could tell myself was "you are doing it", to fuel my body into moving forward. I'd glance over at Christopher, to see that his cheeks were bright pink and there was a slight smile on his rain kissed face. It looked like his steps had evened out, and his shoulders had lost their tension. He was doing alright now. He had found his stride, and we were doing this.

The peacefulness that I felt when I lifted my head and looked around, was overwhelming. "Look at how far I've come", I thought.

We ran. And we ran. And we ran.

Along the path, from the beginning to the end, we'd pass men and women in uniform, standing out in the rain only to show us which way to go, and to catch us should we fall. The whole time I was thinking how angry with us they must be, for causing them to stand out in the cold for so much longer, not realizing that we were only about 10 or 15 minutes behind the rest. There was also a truck following us, which was more annoying than anything, especially knowing that they had been watching our butts jiggle for miles now, but somewhat a relief, just in case. The minutes seemed to go by so slowly, and after awhile, it almost felt like an alternate universe we were in.

And then, when I squinted and concentrated hard enough, I could see through the fog just barely enough... there was a finish line. We had about a mile to go. Yes, only a mile. But wait, really... a whole mile?

"Keep running Tia. Mind over matter".

My body had switched itself to mode: auto pilot. Each step was the same, each breath was the same, each blink was the same. Christopher and I each took out an ear phone, and reminded each other why we were out here doing this, by saying "I love you". He had checked up on me constantly, by giving me thumbs up signs when he thought I might be crashing.

And then somebody came into view. He was running towards us. He ran up to Christopher, probably somebody from his ALS class, slowed himself to our pace, and then took off again. He met up with another man in front of us, and then both men were looking directly at me, jaws dropped.

They must have just found out that I'm pregnant.

Both men came running back to us, this time on my side rather than Christopher's. I took my ear phone out, and got ready to defend my finale. The conversation went almost exactly as I imagined it would. They told me I was crazy for doing this while pregnant, jokingly yet seriously said they were going to kick my husband's ass, told me to get into the truck that had been following us, and then reminded me at least 3 times to stop if I felt any kind of pain at all. I told them I was finishing this race. I had trained for it, I had come this far, I was doing it. My stubborn attitude was enough to put them in their places, and they left us alone to complete our race.

That was the extra push that I needed. Reminding myself why I was out there doing it. Saying out loud, that I was going to finish.

Things started coming into sight. We could see the end. We'd go straight here, we'd turn up there, we'd turn again over there, and then we'd go straight until we crossed the finish line.

The human street signs in uniform clapped as we passed, probably because they couldn't wait to get out of the rain, I doubt it was because they were proud of us. And then we rounded the last corner, and we could see the end. At that point I'm not sure what came over me. Maybe it was adrenaline, maybe it was determination, maybe it was love. Love for my husband, reaching my goals, pushing myself. I really can't explain what my heart felt at that exact moment, it wasn't anything I had ever felt before.

I ran hard.

This was it. This was the end. I was going to push myself as hard as I possibly could. I was going to sprint. I don't know what Christopher must have thought when I took off like a rocket, but he was right there beside me. I felt my lungs begging for air, and my legs screaming for me to stop. But not once did I feel a pain telling me that it wasn't safe, so I didn't stop. There came a point where I felt weakness, my body wanted me to slow back down, but I fought it. "Let me run!", my heart screamed. I ignored the pain. I could hurt later. I ignored my lungs, I could breathe later. Just let me run.

And then at the very last minute, Christopher reached over and grabbed my hand, and together we crossed the yellow finish line.

51:55

Its kind of a blur as to what happened after that. I was having a hard time breathing, the world was spinning, and I thought for a few minutes that maybe I had actually passed out. As word spread of my pregnancy, I had paramedics approach me and follow me around until I was clearly alright to wander off on my own, yet still leaning on Christopher for added support.


After all was said and done, we walked away winning first place in the "walking division", because there hadn't been any actual walkers in the race. But wait- what about those guys that had passed us walking with the backpacks? I bet they felt cheated, haha. During the brief awards ceremony, it was announced over the microphone, the cute story of how the married couple that came in last crossed the finish line holding hands. Everybody awwww'd, we accepted our plaques for being the best at being slow, and we walked away happy.

And thats the story of how my husband and I ran our very first race together, while I was 10 weeks pregnant with our 3rd child.

My C25K

I know its clean week, and I'm supposed to be blogging about all of the dirt and grime that I've been scrubbing off of my refrigerator shelves, but- this is important.

For the past 8 or 9 weeks, while I've completely lost track of time, I've been training to run a 5k.

Its not something that I wanted to shout from the rooftops. I didn't want to document my every move in the same way that I did with my 30 day shred. I didn't want to crack under the heavy pressure that my computer screen has the power to put on me. After I did my shred, I decided that I needed to get healthy and lose weight for me. Not that I was doing it for anybody else before, I just felt that if I kept it to myself, the details and struggles, I could keep my goal more personal, just me and the track, and I would commit to it for no reason other than I wanted to. Do you know what I mean? Sometimes we lose ourselves in the efforts of not wanting to let somebody else down. And I needed to overcome that. Which I have.

2 1/2 months ago, I dedicated myself to becoming a runner. This isn't something that I took lightly. I've always, always, wanted to be a runner. Back in elementary/middle/high school, I couldn't even do one lap around the track. I was so overweight, that I couldn't even jog a quarter of a mile. Hidden under my embarrassment for my lack of physical fitness and less than beautiful exterior, was jealousy. Severe, anger filled, envy. I wanted to be better.

When I was 19 years old, I battled with a rush of anorexia, combined with a diet pill drug addiction, topped off with an unhealthy lust for my StairMaster. I locked myself up for days, and emerged 40 pounds thinner. I was thin. My skin was yellow, I was always exhausted and dizzy, but I was thin. Shortly after meeting my husband, but long before we were married, tragedy struck (something I don't think I'll ever be able to bring myself to write about), and just as quickly as I had lost the weight, I put it all back on... and then some. My weight sky rocketed to an out of control 238 pounds (256 while pregnant with Eleanore). Part of that was food allergies (gluten, dairy, fructose), but most of it was depression, both postpartum and non. I needed help.

Over the next couple of years I was diagnosed with IBS, Barrett's Esophagus, and Endometriosis (not to mention, I had two kids!). A real party in the out patient surgery department. All of those things combined tore my obese body apart, cell by cell. I had to change my diet drastically, and slowly, very slowly, I started building my depression and sickness, into strength and brilliance.

After things got on track with my diet, which I thought would never happen, I decided to take on the physical. I started out with walking. Then hit the rowing machine a couple of times. And then, The 30 Day Shred. I was thinning out, I was feeling great. Everybody that had watched my transformation asked me, "What are you going to do next, what are you going to do next?", and I froze. I stopped working out altogether. I took a break.

That brings me back to 2 1/2 months ago, when I decided that I can be a runner. One day while browsing blogs and such, I came across the "couch to 5k" program. Basically, a program for folks like me, who want to get off their lazy asses, put on some running shoes and a sports bra (or if you're me, three sports bras), and hit the track. I didn't even stop to think about it for a second, I was dedicated right then and there. I said out loud to Christopher, who was sitting on the couch next to me (see, literally, couch, to 5k, hah) "I'm doing this running program, I'm starting tomorrow". And that's exactly what I did.

I was scared to death, my first run. I had never run before in my life. Wait, I take that back. I tried to run, back in May, I got maybe 50 feet- and then I sprained my knee. Yeah, that's how awesome I am. I messed my knee UP (did you read that in the ghetto voice that I was using in my head when I typed it? I did my best with the fonts, but- ). I knew nothing about running. I didn't understand how to breath properly (really though, it takes a lot of concentration and rhythm, it took me awhile to get the hang of it). I thought everybody was staring at me (and lets face it, I kind of stand out). My first run, was rough. Even though I was only running 60 seconds at a time, it was extremely difficult, and my body sure let me know it.

My second run, not quite as bad, but I was still positive that everybody was staring at me. Running on a military base, where everyone is clearly in excellent physical condition, SUCKS.

From there on, things got harder, and easier, both at the same time. I knew I wouldn't give up, I couldn't give up. The running sets got longer. I struggled with chest pains, ear aches, pulled muscles- everything. I wondered if maybe I just wasn't cut out to be a runner, but, until I snapped a bone mid jog, I wasn't quitting.

The most memorable night in my dedication, was somewhere around the 6th or 7th week. I had to go run. I had been planning on doing it all day, I knew that my body needed it, my brain needed it too, I had to go. It was late at night, freezing cold outside, and pouring rain. I'm not the type to workout inside on a treadmill. That's the kind of exercise that you do to lose weight, not to feel good. I like to feel good. I can only run outside. I put on my workout clothes, plugged my ipod earpieces into my head, and took off. I, got, soaked. I was the only person out on the track that night (the same as most nights, since I have to go after Christopher gets home, which doesn't really give me the option to pick and choose when my workouts are), the water was coming down so hard from the sky I couldn't see where I was going, my clothes had gained an additional 20 pounds in water weight alone- and I wasn't stopping. I ran my heart out. I ran until my tears mixed with the rain, similar to something from a movie scene. And when I finished my 2 miles that night, I realized that I was doing it. Could I officially call myself, a runner?

Tonight my neighbor came over to our house and watched the kids for us (I'm not good leaving the babies with anybody else, even if they're a good friend, I'm that kind of mom), and Christopher and I went down to the track together. We forgot bug spray, so that was awesome, and we forgot the camera, even more awesome, but- this was it.

Tonight, I ran a 5k with my husband.

I didn't do this for anybody other than myself. I didn't do it for the jerks in middle school that called me fat, which, I was. I didn't do it for my husband, who will love me no matter what. I really, truly, did this for me.

When I crossed the finish line tonight, I burst into tears. I was crying so hard that Christopher thought I had hurt myself. I had run so fast that last quarter of a mile, faster than I've ever let myself go, that I had no breath to tell him otherwise, (not that I would have, even if I could have, because emotional moments like that aren't the kind of moments that you want to interrupt with an explanation of "no dear, I'm alright, nothing is broken or sprained or pulled, I just ran a freakin' 5k for Gods sake!"). I walked around the track with my hands on my hips, slowly catching my breath, my chest pounding, thinking about how my life has changed. With every burning exhale, I thought about how 5 years ago, I would have never pictured my life ending up like this.

I saved myself.

Since starting my training, I've lost 4 pounds. Nothing spectacular in the way of numbers, but, damn, I feel good. I'm stronger. I'm in better shape than I've ever been in before. I'm down to 185. And... did I mention I can run a 5k?


The face of accomplishment.

My 30 Day Shred, Results

So I did it you guys. I finished the 30 Day Shred. Actually, I finished a week ago, but haven't gotten around to taking before and after pictures. I say "haven't gotten around to it", like I've been soooo busy, and there wasn't a single second that I could have set up the tripod, but really... I just didn't want to.

You may or may not have read about the peanut fiasco (sorry, I'm not letting it go so easily, and will probably bring it up every day for the next month). If you don't feel like going and reading the original post, the overview is, my husband sabotaged my weight loss (unintentionally, he claims) by hiding an extra 600 calories in my would be healthy late night snack. This making my weight loss for the most part, a fail.

By now you've probably skipped over these past few paragraphs, and gone straight to the pictures. I had to up the antie on the dramatic visual effects, just like they would in one of those awful infomercials for various weight loss products that you see at 3am while feeding your should be sleeping through the night by now baby.

Sorry for the run on sentences today, I'm multi tasking. Between trying to write this blog entry' and trying to start my week, Monday is surely winning.

Lets talk about the Shred for a minute. Some of you found my blog by googling "30 Day Shred before and after", or "30 Day Shred results", maybe something similar. You're wanting to know how skinny it will make you. Right? I hate to break it to you, but miracles in the weight loss department, don't happen in 30 days. Unless you actually go on the show, The Biggest Loser, or land yourself in the hospital with some awful body eating disease, you're not going to lose the weight that you're probably looking to lose, in just one month. Who am I to tell you that, though? Hopefully you already know that, and you probably just going to google for reassurance that doing this workout routine will give you some kind of results. Hoping to find inspiration in somebody else who has already gone through it. You don't want to commit yourself to do something that isn't going to work. I know. I've been there. I think I even did those same google searches before I started the program myself. And what I learned is, your body isn't going to change, unless you want it to change.

The 30 Day Shred is not easy. It kicked my ass (was going to use the word butt, to make this rated "G", but butt doesn't sound as intense as ass does).

Did the 30 Day Shred change my body? Yes. Did I lose weight? Yes. "How much, how much?!?!" ...Ugh. I promised everyone I'd do this, so lets get it over with before my bravery dissolves into embarrassment.

After I posted those pictures, I buried my face in my hands, and peeked out through a crack in my fingers. As if you could see my cheeks flush? I hated posting these pictures. Hated. Hate hate hated. But I promised so many of you that I would, so I had to.

As you can see, not much of a difference. Because my total weight loss, throughout the entire 30 workouts, only added up to 4 pounds. But if you look closely enough, (which I hope you won't, because then you'll be able to see my wicked wedgie that makes these pictures that much more embarrassing. Even so, I wasn't about to retake them) you can see that things tightened up. In the first picture, with my back turned to you, my arm tattoos have a little less skin under them afterwards. Less fat, really. 30 days ago I could barely get down on my knees and do a girlie push up, and now I can hop down and do man push ups next to my husband. Not a lot of them, but its a start. Jillian gave me arm strength. In the middle pictures, the profiles, you can see that I carry a little less double chin, and... well that's about it. When I look at those pictures, I don't see much of a change at all. I don't see the change, and you probably can't either, but my measuring tape does. Thank god for my measuring tape. And in the last picture, the front view, I look fatter. Yep. Maybe because its that time of the month, or maybe because this time I took the pictures before working out, so my shirt isn't stretched in the least like it was after the first picture was taken. Either way... awesome *bangs head on desk*.

When I run into people at the store, or at the park, they all tell me how great I look, without me having to mention my constant workouts or fish for a compliment. Its flattering, and I really need to hear it, because after seeing these pictures, I feel like a failure. And did I mentioned I was sabotaged with a half a cup of peanuts a night? ...sorry. I told you I couldn't let it go. Along side the handful of people that have given me compliments, I have my trusty measuring tape to strangle me with sanity. I wrap it around my skin, pull it tightly, and it sings sweet melodies at me.

-bust: 44 ...44 (no change, I'm breastfeeding)
-bra Band: 36 ...35 (1 inch)
-waist (above belly button): 39 ...35 (4 inches)
-hips: 44 ...42 (2 inches)
-upper thigh: 23.5 ...22.5 (1 inch)
-lower thigh: 19 ...16 (3 inches)
-calf: 15.5 ...15 (.5 inches)
-upper arm: 12.5 ...12 (.5 inches)
-bicep flexed: 13 ...12 (1 inch)

So there you have it. I lost some serious inches.

My personal opinion of the 30 Day Shred, is that its a perfect jump start into a healthy lifestyle. Its given me the strength and endurance to challenge myself with new workout routines, and now I don't have to wear SPANX to get my pants buttoned. When I first started it, I didn't think I'd be able to get through an entire routine without throwing up, but turns out I could, and I did it 29 times after that. I graduated from level 1, to level 2, and eventually took on level 3. And if I can do it, anyone can do it.

2 years in the making

After a long weekend of triple digit temperatures, endless yard work, and shred after shred, I got the chance to take a nice long hot shower. The dirt washed off me in seconds, as if it was screaming to jump away from my skin and dive down the drain. Good, because I really didn't feel comfortable with it hijacking the space on my neck anyways. As always, when I got out of the shower my cat was waiting for me on the floor mat, thinking that I was going to immediately bend down and start petting her, even though she knows I'm soaking wet and will just drip all over her. She doesn't learn. I stepped over her, and went to the bathroom sink, where my husband had so nicely piled up clean underwear, a clean bra, and clean breast pads (I prefer Johnson and Johnson. I tried cloth, but I soak right through them. All 5 layers of them). I looked up to pin my hair into place, and... who in the heck is that?

I didn't recognize myself

I started pawing at my face. Is that a jaw bone? I turned my head left then right, and back again. Up then down, and back again. I turned to the right side, examined myself from a different angle. Turned to the left. Did the same from behind. Turned to the front again. This went on until the new image of me burned into my brain.

I've been so overweight for so long. The pounds started sneaking on around the same time I met my husband. Right after our very first pregnancy (we had a pregnancy before Miss Eleanore), actually. The pounds just kept coming, and coming, and before I knew it, things were out of control. I always thought about losing weight, but didn't know what to do about it. I had a million excuses as to why I couldn't eat healthy or exercise. I guess in my head, I kept telling myself that the pounds would just melt away on their own.

I had a 3.5 pounds weight loss last week, bringing my total thus far close to 50. I have 3 days remaining on my 30 Day Shred. I think I finally feel like I'm on the right track. Like the days of dieting and workout failures are behind me.

This is my new healthy life.

(Hopefully soon I can find something other than weight loss and the insane heat to blog about, sorry folks, hang in there)

My 30 Day Shred, day 22

Yesterday was a Shred fail. I took the day off due to yet another injury. Some of you might remember a few months back when I sprained my knee doing sprints at the track (yeah, my husband has some awesome ideas)? Well this time I'm pretty sure I pulled something during a post workout stretch. The pain had been tolerable, but after carrying a kicking and screaming 40 pound toddler up the stairs mid tantrum, my right ankle (and the muscle right behind it) got an attitude and decided it was done with compromise. Jumping was absolutely out of the question by this point, and if you've ever shredded, then you understand how you can't really do the workout without thrusting your entire body up off of the ground and into the air at least 100 times. So I took the day off. So what.

I made up for it today.

Oh boy did I make up for it today.

For my 22nd workout, I kicked it up to level 3. And just like when I started level 1, and level 2, I felt defeated. I really struggled to keep up. Level 3 is full of all sorts of crazy jumping moves (that's what I get for not jumping yesterday). Something like, do a lunge, and then jump, and then land in a lunge. Stuff like that. Also, when doing level 3, you have to do everything with your hand weights. Jumping jacks... with your hand weights. Punches... with your hand weights. I didn't think I'd be able to do it, but some insane force of nature came out of nowhere and lifted my arms against their will. By the end of the routine I thought I was dead. I looked down at my chest and saw that I was still breathing, so I just layed there for a few seconds until my voice found its way back to my mouth. Reaching for my glass of water made me question how thirsty I really was. My arm was wobbling and my fingers were dripping sweat. Oh, and did I mention I made my husband do it with me? He obviously loves me.

After about half an hour of recovery, we headed outside to do some yard work. I say "some", but it turned into 7 hours of hard labor. The plan was to mow the lawn, and pull some weeds. Well, I mowed the lawn alright. Our front yard, my neighbors front yard (her husband is deployed), our side yard, and our neighbors side yard. Not only that, but to get the mower, I had to walk down to the self help store (kind of like a library full of stuff for housing maintenance), and push the gas powered beast all the way back. It might not have been so bad, had it not been 90 degrees outside. While I mowed, hubby pulled weeds and removed unwanted aloe-wannabe plants that should have never been planted in the first place. Eventually the kids had to go inside, and someone had to go in with them. I wish I could say that was me, but I was too motivated to give up on the projects that I had started. In place of the freshly discarded weeds, I put down 2 layers of weed guard, and covered the entire space in mulch (hubby came out to help towards the end). Now our house and our neighbors house match, which is kind of important (actually, really silly) since we're connected in an awesome duplex kind of way. How did mowing the yard and laying down mulch take 7 hours, you ask? I have 2 kids, and it was a billion degrees out, that's how. The most relaxing part of the day though, was when I watered the lawn. Rather than setting up the sprinkler, I stayed outside and watered it by hand like my Dad used to do. Not like, watering can by hand, but by holding a hose, by hand. The mist felt excellent on my sun burnt skin (Christopher is never allowed to apply sunblock on my back ever again), and the silence let me clear my head and prepare myself for the end of the 4 day weekend.

And as for the amazing picture seen above? I'm rockin' my husbands socks (don't wanna get bitten by bugs!) and dollar store sunglasses (my real ones broke yesterday). I work with what I've got, haha.

Smile lines.

Over the past few months, my smile lines have doubled in depth. Obviously its because I smile way more these days. Not because I'm getting older. Or maybe because of my recent weight loss. It couldn't be that second option at all, right?

After taking this picture, my eyes immediately darted to my smile lines. To me, they take up my entire face. They stand out like a Unicorn in a field of pigs (hahah, what?!). Christopher says they're "cute". What kind of response is that anyways? Well whatever they are, they're probably here to stay, and I should get used to them.

Today I had to step on a scale. Not just a scale, but a real scale, of the working variety, with accuracy and history. I had a doctors appointment (my very favorite kind, with cold metal objects and backless gowns), where I had no choice but to step onto the digital beast and face my doom. The scale there has always been neck and neck with the scale at the gym, so I knew it would read accurately. I was praying for 189. Please, 189, be there. 189, 189, 189. Come on, come on, come on. I've been doing my shred for nearly 3 weeks now, with incredible results in the muscle department. I've adjusted my diet in ways only crazy people would. I just knew, without knowing at all, that I had to weigh 189.

Yes, I'm about to post my actual weight (I can't believe I'm doing this).

187.

188.

189.

190.

191.

192.

193. Stop.

....Oh. 193. Thats definately not 189. Thats... I've only lost 3 lbs.

Heartbreak. Failure. Denial. Disappointment. Blaaaaaaaaaaaah.

I spent the entire afternoon fighting with the once-was-determination in my head. I've been working so hard. I expected so much more. Where are the results I've been chasing? Christopher reminded me that I've lost a load of inches in the fat department (theres no nice way to put it), and pointed to the area on my arm where a pool of blubber once lived, but is now being leased by a loyal tenant that I picked up at the gun show (totally lame, but I crack myself up). I did some texting, re weighed myself on the scale at the gym, went for a drive, and eventually my head cleared and I came to a realization.

3 pounds, is better than no pounds.

Maybe I've been trying too hard. I've kind of got a lot going against me, with breastfeeding, and my dietary restrictions, and my busy schedule. Every day I push myself as far as I can. I want to wake up sore in the morning, so that I know I couldn't possibly have pushed myself any harder. And I think because of that, I've put too much stress on my body. I've hit my plateau. I've heard people talk about weight loss plateaus before, but never really understood how your body could just stop responding. Well I understand now. Unfortunately.

I'm not going to stop my 30 Day Shred. I committed myself to it, and I'm going to finish it. Its transformed my unwanted jiggle spots into tightened functional body parts, and for that I'm thankful. Instead of doing it every day though, no. I'm going to start taking a day of rest in between my workouts. Even when I'm finished with the shred. Every other day, until I can get back on track.

So just like I have to accept my smile lines. I have to accept that my body is not going to change overnight, no matter how hard I push it.

My 30 Day Shred, day 17

I haven't stepped on the scale in a few days, and its been the best possible thing for me. Instead I've been focusing on getting stronger. When I started this Shred 17 days ago, I could barely do a girlie push up. The thought of doing a real push up was a laugh. At the same time, knowing that I couldn't do a single push up made me sick to my stomach. Really? I can't even do one? My husband can do like 60, and I can't even lift myself up off the ground for the count of one? So I worked at it. I grunted and groaned, I bitched and I moaned. I got down on the floor at least 10 times a day and worked on it. I went from doing 1 girlie push up and crying about it, to doing 10. And then I did 10 more. And then one day, I went for it. I got into push up position, lowered myself down, and then pushed myself back up. The rush of adrenaline was enough to swell my head for the remainder of the day. And now, 17 days after not being able to do a single girlie push up, I can do five, count them, 1 2 3 4 5, real push ups in a row.

I did day 17 of the Shred today while the babies napped (I hear the youngest waking up in his pack n play behind me). Since my last fitness post, I realized how lazy I've been when it comes to playing by the rules. I decided to stop cheating, and just do the dang planks. I started doing them yesterday, thinking I wouldn't get through a single move, but to my surprise, I did all of them. So today there was no backing down from yesterdays accomplishment. I had to pull my weight through the planks again. When I really push myself, the sweat starts rolling during the first circuit. I never sweat that early on in the game during level 1.

This morning while I was putting away laundry, I noticed a pair of sweat pants up in the closet that have been sitting there folded and unworn in way too long. Why? Because they were tight and you could see my underwear lines and unpleasant bumps and lumps through them, all too well. I wondered how they'd fit me now? This could go one of two ways. I could try them on, and they wouldn't fit. That's the one of two ways that would ruin my day completely, and possibly send me into a burn-all-the-sweats-in-the-world type frenzy. Or, it could go the other way. I could try them on, and they might fit? And then maybe I'd have another pair of sweats to add to my super sexy mom wardrobe?

Guess who's got a new addition to the mom wardrobe.

And, I can do 5 push ups.

Halfway through the 30 Day Shred

By now you're probably wondering how my body is adapting to the 30 Day Shred. Wanting to know if I've dropped weight, or inches, or dead? I'm still alive, barely. My muscles don't hurt nearly as bad as they used to, but when I wake up in the mornings I'm stiff like cardboard. Yesterday I finished my 15th workout with Jillian. I've moved onto level 2, but by no means does that make me a pro. I might as well call it level 1 1/2, after all of the alterations I've made. Level 2 was obviously designed for somebody with much more upper body strength than I currently have. I should try harder to do the moves, I know I should, but I've gotten bored with the routine, so I just replaces them with moves from level 1. They still challenge me, just, not enough to make me throw up the way Jillian intended. Me and planks just don't get along. I replace them with punches and bicycle crunches instead. That may or may not make me a 30 Day Shred cheater. I don't know if there are actual rules.

Moms. This DVD only takes 20 minutes to complete. There are 24 hours in a day. I know you can find 20 minutes. I've come to the realization that I'll never have complete privacy in my own home, so I do the workout in front of my kids. Who cares if they see me grunting and groaning, jumping and falling, sweating and spitting? Its good for them. Its good for them to see that I care about my body, and that exercise is important. Sometimes my toddler likes to pretend like shes working out with me, by holding her 1 lb pink hand weights and spinning around yelling "woohoo! I'm doing it!", and sometimes she'd rather go upstairs and play with her baby doll. My 6 month old baby likes to watch me dance from his swing, or use the sound of my Adidas hitting the floor as a soothing lullaby. Either way, I'm working out. They can complain all they want. They can have me for roughly 23 hours and 40 minutes of the day. This 20 minutes belongs to me. And it can belong to you too.

Who wants measurements? Ugh. That sounds horrible, haha. But for you, I'll do it.

Bust before: 44. Bust after: 44. = no change (please keep in mind I'm still breastfeeding).
Bra band before: 36. Bra band after: 35. = -1.
Waist (directly above belly button) before: 39. Waist after: 36.5. = -2.5.
Hips before: 44. Hips after: 43. = -1.
Upper thigh before: 23.5. Upper thigh after: 23. = -.5.
Lower thigh (directly above knee) before: 19. Lower thigh after: 16. = -3.
Calf before: 15.5. Calf after: 15. = -.5.
Upper arm before: 12.5. Upper arm after: 12. = -.5.
Bicep flexed before: 13. Bicep flexed after: 13. = no change.

Changes I've noticed in my body: I can do a push up like a man now. Yes, I only said, a push up. Not multiple, haha. Its taken me 2 weeks, but I went from barely being able to do a girlie push up on my knees, to actually being able to support my entire body's weight for a brief millisecond. Hot dog! That's a first for me. Never in my life have I been able to do a push up. Another change I noticed, is my stomach. I've had 2 kids, both C-sections. Things are stretched out, and mom-like. While looking in the mirror, I noticed that my Endometriosis laparoscopy scar, has disappeared. It used to be an ugly scar that stretched out about an inch or more below my belly button. Since starting the Shred, things have tightened up to the point of its disappearance. Its still there, only, its hiding inside my belly button where it belongs. Amazing. My arm flab is slowly transforming into muscle. When I flex, my arm actually does something now. My husband used to come up to me and feel my arm, and I'd be so embarrassed because I knew it was all fat. Not anymore baby, grab ahold and I'll take you to the gun show!

So in conclusion. Yes, I'm bored with the Shred. Could I challenge myself more... absolutely. I need to start doing all of the plank moves. I like this workout because it only takes 20 minutes. I like this workout because I'm gaining muscle. Have I lost any weight? I think in the beginning I lost all of two pounds. I've since banished my scale to the depths of the garage, never to return. I'll weigh in at the end of the 30 days, and see where I stand. Do I think I'm going to lose 20 pounds in 30 days? No.

Now if you'll excuse me, the husband and I have a hot date to see Transformers tonight, so I need to go powder my nose...

Days 6/7, and the worst tummy ache ever.

Saturday afternoon, my black fluffy kitty, Spooky, jumped up onto my lap, so I had no choice but to snuggle and kiss her all over. All over, including her cute little kitty mouth. In mid kiss, I realized what I was doing. Not the I-kiss-my-cat-on-her-mouth part, that doesn't embarrass me at all, but the I'm-kissing-cat-food, part (oh and it smelt so bad)... crap. Our cat food is wheat free, but not gluten free. I thought about it for a second, put the cat down, and went on with my day thinking the chances of me having a reaction were so slim, it wouldn't really matter. I forgot about the entire incident until a few hours later when I was on the couch unable to move, begging God to forgive me for my accidental gluten filled sin. I kept telling myself that it was from something else, and the pain would pass in a few minutes. The pain only got worse, and before I knew it, I was being poured into bed by my extremely patient and forgiving husband. There I stayed, until the echoes of a happy bouncing baby woke me up the next morning. Christopher had let me sleep in. And oh, I felt so much better! But, that doesn't change the fact that I had missed my shred the day before, which made me feel like a failure. All of the "but you were sick" reassurances in the world couldn't have made me feel better. I was still exhausted, and not entirely recovered, but I had to get up and complete my 6th workout. After some coffee and some breakfast, I hit the mat. I'm a bit obsessive, this I know.

My 6th day of the 30 Day Shred was harder than the previous days. I still had gluten in my system, and was moving like a snail carrying a brick for a shell. The sweat was dripping, my muscles were screaming, but in the end, I had done it. I felt so bad, for missing the previous day, that I even attempted to do the workout again. Actually, I flipped to level 3, to see just how hard it was. Um... yeah that didn't last long, haha. After the first round I put it back onto level 1. But then after the first round of that, I voluntarily collapsed on the floor and told Christopher to turn the DVD player off, I was done. He knew how badly I wanted to do another workout to make up for the previous days skip, so he encouraged me to get back up, but I just didn't have it in me, no matter how hard I was trying.

Day 7: The gluten is long gone, and I'm feeling great. The Shred isn't getting any easier though, because as I get stronger, I'm submerging myself into the moves twice as hard as I was when I first started. My form is different. I'm sticking my butt out as far as I can go, I'm holding my abs in until they sting, and I'm wearing 3 bras at once so that I can do the entire set of jumping jacks. The more I do it, the less I slack, the harder I try, the more Jillian's annoying banter makes sense. When she says to sink lower into my lunge, I do. When she tells me the only person I'm cheating is myself, shes right. I still have to stop occasionally to tend to small children who insist on trying to crawl even though they know they can't, but instead of moving on, I rewind it. Even 30 seconds makes a difference, and I'm really committed to changing my body.

I had Christopher hide the scale in the garage, to tame my awful obsession with numbers. This isn't a race to lose weight. I need to remember that.

(picture by honeyandjamphotos)

The 30 Day Shred, day 5.

Before Shredding, and after Shredding.

I know, I can't believe I've done 5 days either!

Today was Christopher's squadron picnic (for those of you that are new to the exciting life of Christopher And Tia, Christopher is in the US Air Force), which for us, means we get to eat brownies! The military doesn't exactly approve of a gluten free lifestyle, which means we're on our own at the events as far as food goes. Lately, our go to to-go food, is a brownie. Its kind of the most perfect food ever, am I wrong? We like adding walnuts for protein. They're healthy really, I swear, haha. The picnic ended up being awful in every way possible, I'll spare you the details, so we came home way before our departure was scheduled. Instead of eating our brownies in the 100 degree heat, surrounded by a big group of immature disrespectful jerks (OK, so I'll partially spare you the details), we decided to come home and eat our brownies in our nice air conditioned home. And eat those brownies we did. A lot. We ate them so hard, that we had to sweep and swiffer the entire bottom floor of the house. You think I'm joking don't you? No, we're huge pigs.

So because of the great brownie pig out of 2009, we had to kick butt in the 30 Day Shred department. Yep, Christopher too! While I was dressing Charlie in his goodnight outfit, in comes Christopher, wearing red short-shorts, knee socks, and a matching red sweatband. Sexay! The poor guy, got his butt kicked by Jillian. And me? I did great! I didn't have to stop a single time (I brought it back down to level 1 again, haha). I kept up, and I was even able to advance in some of the moves. I can now actually KICK my butt on the butt kicks. Yay! So my endurance is increasing, and I'm 1/6 of the way done with the Shred.

My 30 Day Shred, day 4.

Really, all I have to say about day 4, is that I deserve this Shrek sized chai tea soy latte, thankyouverymuch.

I stepped it up a notch, to level 2 of Jillian's program. What, in the heck, was I thinking? My original plan was to stay on level 1 for the first 10 days. But today as I regained control of over 75% of my leg muscles, I wondered to myself "how hard could it be?". I rolled out my pink mat, laced up my Adidas, and while the baby went back and forth in his swing, I pressed play on the remote. Because I took on this challenge while both kids were awake, I had to stop a few times for "get out of mommy's workout space or else" threats, and a few times to replace binkys into crying mouths.

It started out like the last one, same arm stretching, jumping jacks... pffft, I got this. Just as I think the push ups are coming, she throws an even deadlier move at me, a walking push up? Sounds easy enough. I mean, walking is easy, right? Within seconds, I'm out of breath and laughing out loud at just how bad at this I am. Go from a standing position, bend over, touch your hands to the floor, use your upper body strength to bring yourself to a push up position (without letting your knees touch the ground ever), do a push up (or just hold it, if you lack upper arm strength like me), and then walk it back up. And then do it again. And again. And again. And... Jillian please! I'm embarrassed to say, I could not keep up, and didn't do all of them. I heard the baby crying for his binky and immediately was like "oh, yes Charlie? Here comes Mommy!!" in hopes of covering up my failure. I did dive right back into the routine though, doing whatever awful body slashing move she threw at me. I couldn't do the last minute of abs, because again, I just don't have that much upper arm strength. Instead, I got down on the mat, and did the bicycle abs from level 1. All in all, I felt like level 2 challenged me way more, and left me feeling much more fulfilled in the "I just got my butt kicked!" department. I think I'm going to challenge myself to it again tomorrow, with a few alterations. I have no shame in admitting that some things I just cannot do, and probably won't be able to do even when I'm finished with the 30 day set. So in place of those moves, I'll use some of the moves from level 1.

When Christopher came home for lunch I asked him not to look at me. My hair was sweat/greased into place with the aid of way too many bobby pins, and I was still walking around in my stretched out sweat pants and double bra ensemble. Not so sexy. I ran up and took a shower while he read Eleanore her nap time story (he sang it to her actually, it was really cute), and now that I'm clean I feel 100x better. I'd be lying if I said I haven't been stepping on the scale daily. The numbers haven't really budged, but my measurements have. I'm not going to do an "official" weigh in until my mid point, but, I can see changes, and it feels painfully great.

My 30 Day Shred, day 3.

Last night when I finally got a chance to lay on the couch, I collapsed with the intentions of never getting up again, ever. The pain in my legs by that point was so intense that I had literally shed a single tear on my trip down the stairs 5 minutes before. Not only did I feel like a huge wuss, being the wife of an obviously fit and trim Airman (its so embarrassing sometimes, I hate it), but was I seriously considering crawling? ...I was. I wanted to. Christopher offered to carry me, which he can do (and has) now that I've dropped a big chunk of weight, but that's embarrassing too. I asked him to instead, massage my legs while I watched Vh1. He kept rubbing too deep, which was probably really just a light touch, and I flinched and shouted in agony for him to get away from me. "No I didn't mean it, come back, helllp mmeeee" I begged. And then before I knew it, hubbs had made me a hot (as hot as the water would go) lavender bubble bath, complete with candles. I know, "awww", right? The bath was amazing, and left me feeling almost human again. Until I stood up.

Waking up this morning was near impossible. I didn't want to. I felt I couldn't. I hated the idea of getting out from underneath my covers. I picked up the fussing baby, and snuggled him up next to me so that he had no choice but to fall back asleep. This worked for about 30 minutes, which was plenty of time for my body to accept its fate, and get moving. By the time I got around to doing the shred, I was pleasantly surprised that I was slowly regaining use of my leg muscles. They still burned with every step, but at least they were strong enough to support my weight as I hovered with a bowl full of pureed bananas in front of a wiggly eating machine.

Today I turned the 30 Day Shred into a game. Kind of. I set up my workout space, and a small space beside it for my 2 year old daughter. I gave her wooden toy trains for weights, and when the DVD started, told her to do exactly like the ladies on TV did. At first, this was hilarious and silly to the max. She squealed with laughter at everything. "Are you doing jumping jacks, Mommy?! HAHAHAH!". Her laughing made me laugh, and made my workout that much more difficult, but so much more fun. And when the laughter slipped away, I noticed that I was actually keeping up with Jillian. I didn't have to modify the moves. The things that I had worked hard at the past 2 days, I decided to ease up on, and work harder at the things I had slacked on. Abs. The very last round of ab work during the routine is a killer. Bicycle crunches for 1 minute. I did them. The entire minute. Just as slow and agonizing as they do them on the video. Gasping and grunting for air, but I did them. Eleanore layed on her mat (a folded up Barbie comforter) asking me over and over and over if she could have juice (which, haha little girl, you don't know it, but I've been giving you water, and just calling it juice, take that!). "Are you done Mommy, are you done?!". Yes. Yes my dear, I'm done. Wait... I'm done? I did it? Really? Yesterday I had told myself there was no way that I would be able to do another lunge again as long as I lived, and yet here I was, with a small sweat puddle on the floor where my back had just been, and I was... done?

Awesome.

My 30 day shred: day 2.

Somewhere in between midnight and 3am, I started feeling The Shred. Remember yesterday, when I said that I felt defeated? Like maybe I didn't do it right? Well I did it right, alright. The baby woke me up for good, around 6am. Coming down the stairs was a nightmare. I kept repeating in my head "the pain will go away, the pain will go away, the pain will go away". If I could just put in the DVD, and get through day 2 of the 30 Day Shred, the pain would go away. I just need to work the muscles again. Get the blood flowing. Burn a little fat off the top.

...the pain didn't go away.

Once I started the workout, it didn't take long for the pain to dull. Muscles went numb, as I put more of my concentration into breathing and not falling over (I've got terrible balance). Today I found the jumping jacks even more annoying than I did yesterday. The weight of my chest being tossed around is just too much, so I did a sort of side step/bounce jumping jack. Lets call it a bouncing jack? My butt kicks turned into more of a jog in place, and my jump rope was more of a stand-rope. OK more of a hop rope, but not quite a jump. While switching up these moves worked way better for me, I felt like I wasn't getting my heart rate up to where it needed to be (even though I was sweaty and breathing heavily), and that made me feel defeated again. I felt like if Jillian would have been in front of me for real, she would have been screaming at me to suck it up and jump. But hey, at least I was doing it right? Not sitting on the couch eating cereal like I would have rather been doing. All in all, the workout was a little bit easier today. The bicycle crunches killed me, thank goodness, that's where I need it the most, but everything else seemed to be just a teeny bit more tolerable than it was before. By the time I was finished, I had beads of sweat rolling down the sides of my face, and I was gasping for water. I can no longer walk comfortably, and I don't see the return of a human like stance anytime soon. Honestly, I probably look like I'm walking around with a stick up my ass. In fact I know I do. Sitting down while holding my 20 lb son is the absolute worst. I thought maybe if I did it faster it wouldn't hurt so bad, but then his head just slapped into, and bounced off of my shoulder, making me feel like the laziest/worst mom currently available to babies.

So. In conclusion. The 30 Day Shred is kicking my ass. My body hurts in all of the places Jillian intended. My incredibly sore body makes up for my feeling of defeat in the jumping department. And I don't plan on giving up anytime soon. I'm cringing at the thought of day 3, but excited to get past this introductory phase and transition into a healthier me.

My 30 day shred.

This morning I worked out with Jillian Michaels (ya know, from the Biggest Loser) for the first time. You may, or may not have heard of The 30 Day Shred? I looked up the DVD. I read article reviews, I read blog reviews, I looked at before and after pictures of Shred heads (that's what we call ourselves, I guess. I might be jumping the gun on that one though). After not much thinking at all, I decided to take on the challenge. That's how I start most of my adventures though, on a whim. After being married for 3 years, having 2 kids, and suffering with a ridiculous stomach condition that went undiagnosed for years, I packed on the pounds. I mean, I REALLY packed on the pounds. I became unrecognizable to myself. None of my clothes fit. I was always tired. I didn't want to do anything except sit on the couch and feel sorry for myself (sound familiar? I know this must strike a chord with someone out there).

Just recently I started my weight loss journey. I've walked miles upon miles. I've jogged. I've sprinted (resulting in a badly sprained knee). I've ridden bikes for hours. I've changed my eating habits. And the result of it all? I've lost 3 or 4 pants sizes, and 44 pounds (all while eating chocolate and chips daily). Save your applause though, because I'm nowhere near done.

This morning I woke up, after a rough night might I add, and before even a sip of coffee, but after a glass of water (I'm still breastfeeding, water is more than essential), I put in The 30 Day Shred. The workout starts quicker than I anticipated, after only a minute or two of stretching. Jillian didn't waste any time getting me on the ground and into the push up position (oh god). The hardest part for me personally, was the jumping jacks and jump rope moves. I'm extremely busty, an H cup, and no sports bra in the world can hold me in place. It was uncomfortable, and I had to re-adjust about a billion times before we switched to a new move. The good thing is, Jillian transitions quickly between cardio, abs, and strength training. The cardio of course, seems to last the longest. It was much easier for me to do the punching in place, because it didn't involve bouncing. My toddler was upstairs still sleeping, and my 5 month old was next to me in his Jumperoo squealing with both delight and frustration, as Mommy danced around like a big goof, yet, failed to pick him up and clap every time he engaged a really high double leg kick. Before I knew it, the workout was over. I was drenched in sweat, yet, feeling kind of defeated. It was hard for me to keep up. I felt like I wasn't getting the most out of the workout, due to my lack of endurance. Fast forward 5 minutes to me walking over and picking up the baby, and... shred achieved. Jillian had apparently kicked my ass without me really even knowing it? When it came time to walk up the stairs to get Miss Elie out of bed (she was already wide awake by the way, and probably had been the entire time) I kept praying my knees wouldn't buckle. Falling down the stairs isn't how I wanted to begin my day. How, oh how, am I going to do this again tomorrow? The same way I get up at 3am to feed a hungry baby. The same way I cook an entire gluten free/citrus free/dairy free meal from scratch at the end of a long day. I'll do it because I have to.

My starting measurments in inches (ugh, I can't believe I'm posting these)...
-bust: 44
-bra Band: 36
-waist: 39
-hips: 44
-upper thigh: 23.5
-lower thigh: 19
-calf: 15.5
-upper arm: 12.5
-bicep flexed: 13

Working out and wheat poisoning.

I was at work the other night, and my knees started to hurt. I thought maybe I was just standing funny. I corrected my position, but nope... still hurt. I waited a few minutes, thinking it would go away, before announcing, "I'm too fat and my knees hurt". Everyone turned and looked at me, and it was awkward as hell. Seriously, when my knees can no longer support my weight, its probably time I start working out. It's not that I don't want to work out, because really, I do. Its just, right after I had Eleanore, I got a gym membership and started going 4 or 5 times a week. I was determined to lose weight. At my first weigh in, I had gained 6 lbs. We all know that muscle weighs more than fat, so I was willing to keep that in mind when I saw the numbers on the scale go up. Then they did a funky body analysis, and it turned out that it was all fat I had gained, none of it was musle. So I thought to myself, alright, this just means I really need to step it up and kick some butt. I changed my diet. More whole grains, lean meats, no sugar. I worked out harder than ever. To the point where I was dripping sweat, and there was just no possible way I could gain weight, since it was literally puddling underneath me. At my next weigh in, I was stoked. I was sure that I had lost at least 2 pounds. I was proud to be well on my way to my size 12's. I stepped up on the scale, and.... wait. Are you freakin' kidding me? That says I gained 3 more pounds ...and... UGH! No no no! I went along with this pattern for 3 or 4 months, until I couldn't take it anymore. And this entire time while I was gaining weight, I was sicker than ever. My body was in such bad condition. Turned out almost everything that I was eating, my body couldn't tolerate, and was storing as fat? Figures. It just happen to be, that the harder I worked out, the more I gained. Over the next couple of months I got my food intolerance's squared away, figuring what I could and could not have. There were lots of mistakes on the way. As of right now, I can't have wheat/gluten/soy/dairy/eggs/coffee/fructose/meats/beans/sorbitol/certain brands of white rice/seaweed/more than a handful of grapes/rice milks/corn/potato... and the list goes on. So while I had figured out what the problem was with my weight gain and overall feeling of crappiness, I never went back to the gym. I couldn't stand to gain another pound. So anyways, when I got home from work the other night, I told Christopher that I really needed to start working out again. We recently had our elliptical fixed, but I don't use it because its out in the garage with the giant scary crickets, spiders, and scorpions. Yesterday while I was at a baby shower, he had called a friend over to help him move it into our bedroom (that way I can lock him and the kid out for some Tia-time), he set up the TV and DVD player, and it was perfect. I don't have any more excuses. I have to work out now. Plus, exercise is supposed to be one of the best forms of pain management for Endometriosis. While Christopher was giving the monster a bath, I put on some comfy pants and a tank top, and hopped on the runner. He had forgot to set up the cable, so I got back on solid ground, and stood there pushing every button on the remote trying to get the tv to work. Nothing. I yelled "How do you set up the cable?!", through the door to my left. I could hear him talking to Eleanore, so I knew he could hear me. ...yet, no response. I asked again. And again. And then dammit, again! Its not like hes on the other side of the house, hes like 5 feet away! Finally he goes "What?". By then I'm so annoyed that I had to repeat myself so many times, that I do the same back to him by not responding. Seriously, how can he not hear me. This happens all the time. He never hears me. Because hes never listening for me. Even if I'm standing literally 5 feet away from him, he somehow manages to block me out completely. Does this ever happen to you? Please tell me its not just my husband. Finally I get over my annoyance enough to let him to come in and fix the dang cable, so I can get my workout on. Good, now go away because I'm mad at you and I don't want you to hear the elliptical squeak while I'm on it. Keep in mind, I haven't worked out in about a year. I set a goal for myself. I'm going to walk uphill for 30 minutes. No matter what. Here I go! After 10 minutes I'm hating life, and telling myself that I'm going to be done when the clock gets to 20. But as I step through it, I start thinking about my knees hurting at work, and how I'm constantly bitching about not being able to wear my size 12's anymore. When I get to 20 minutes I keep on going, and before I know it, 30 minutes have passed, and boy do I have the worst heartburn I've ever had in my life. My face is bright red, and I'm all sticky. That's supposed to be a good thing. Lets hope I didn't just gain 10 pounds. I walk out into the kitchen and sit down on a bar stool, feeling like I'm going to throw up, gasping for water. I need white rice, right now. My heartburn is killing me. Christopher had cooked 2 cups of rice earlier, so I know there's some in the fridge. A dose of relief is in my immediate future. I ask him to heat me up a bowl, and he stares at me blankly. Great, what did he do with the rice? Earlier in the evening, he had made a potato/broccoli mash for him and Eleanore to eat. On accident, and this isn't the first time this has happened, he opened the wrong side of the pepper container, and turned his yummy dish into a pepper death wish. Apparently he had added that entire pot of rice to his mash, thinking it would cancel out the pepper taste, which it didn't. So not only do I not have fluffy white rice to ease the pain in my chest (I'm out of Nexium), but we've got a giant pot of green mush in the fridge that him and Eleanore still won't eat. He feels bad (which makes me feel bad) and makes me some fresh white rice. After its cooked, I gobble it up, and everything is better. My heartburn is gone, and I'm not angry anymore. We're sitting on the couch watching the alternate ending to I Am Legend, and I notice I'm starting to bloat up. I'm not feeling so good. What the heck? And then I realize that when the hubbs went to the store earlier that day, he had bought one of the brands of white rice that my body doesn't tolerate. ....*sigh*. I just can't win can I? And just the day before, he had made some tasty cookies, with a wheat contaminated baking soda that has been sitting in the back of our fridge for well over a year. There was a brand new box in the pantry though! Most of us would know better. But because I know its nothing he did on purpose, I calmed down and I'm not mad at him anymore. I just... ugh... Ya know? So tonight, I'm going to workout for another 30 minutes. And not eat anything that will make me sick and gain another thousand pounds. I can do it, I can do it, I can do it.

From top to bottom:

-"fat woman lifting weights exercise rubber stamp", by LynnieLane, $10.00

-"NEON GREEN PINK YELLOW Retro Sweatband", by thevintagerevolution, $5.00.

-"Organic Sore Muscle n' Joint Gel", by SpaGoddess, $8.00.