epiphany

I am not having any more kids.

The work I put into getting back to an ideal weight doesn’t have a “get out of jail free by claiming getting fat again was due to pregnancy” clause. This is (at the risk of sounding like a horrible Mom) so empowering to me. I love my kids, but that doesn’t mean I have to wear a fat ass like a badge of honor.

I felt pretty cheated by being at my ideal weight for the first time in my adult life for mere minutes before getting pregnant again. While I fought the good fight at first, my weight eventually creeped up way past the suggested 30-35 pounds and I had ten months to luxuriate in eating more than I should with a borderline acceptable excuse. Sure, I managed to lose some of it again, but never got back to that place- physically or mentally. And while I was pissed at being fat again it was more my inability to control myself that was upsetting. Losing weight is super hard. Gaining it is well- a piece of cake. (Or 40).

Years have passed, add another baby- and all told, with my three pregnancies I have gained a hundred plus pounds twice over, 80 plus pounds for the third bundle and well- suffice to say not lost it all… And here I am, struggling and only losing the same 20 pounds over and over again- never mind the other 30 that need to go.

With the end of my baby making days I almost feel as though it’s time for me to be reborn. I have this feeling of closure and resolve I haven’t had in many years. My body is finally mine again.

I feel some guilt pangs because I know other women mourn the end of baby days and here I am celebrating mine- but the fact that I may become pregnant again has been in the back of my mind, keeping me from putting in the effort from pure laziness. Knowing that I let myself gain so much every time isn’t exactly motivating. I feel the changes I make today are FINALLY changes that I am making for the rest of my life, not just until I get pregnant again.

And since I have yet to grace this blog with a single image- I leave you with a picture I am using as motivation-my legs. No freaky model I can never measure up to, even with my photoshop skills- but me. I am not and doubt I ever will be a long and lean type. However, I can make some bitchin’ muscles. I even left my muffin top in the picture because it’s not a muffin top- it’s a muscle too, I shit you not.

I know these legs are still under there somewhere...

 

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