I still don’t know what’s gotten into me. What I thought was a passing whim is lingering a little longer than I thought it would. Losing baby weight still crosses my mind at least a few times a day.
I’m not the type to pay much mind to petty things like belly squish THAT’S SUPPOSED TO BE THERE because there was a fully-formed person underneath it JUST WEEKS AGO.
I’ve lost my mind.
But I’ll roll with it.
I poked around and found out that I can get a pretty substantial discount at the local gym. (Did I mention that I think treadmills are stupid? Because they are.)
I was going to wait for my postpartum check-up to make sure everything’s a go, but who am I kidding? I used Nugget’s NICU time to snuggle him in a recliner and stare at his numbers on the monitor, so healing progressed quickly and I feel fine.
You’ve seen the motivational weight-loss garble, being all, DON’T WAIT! START TODAY! And I’m all, SHUT UP, can’t you see I’m trying to scrape out the empty Nutella jar here?
But in reality, cheap gym membership plus feeling fine plus the occasional poking at my midsection…I’m thinking I should start. Something. Soon.
So, my plan…
Join the gym. Own that stupid, horrible treadmill like the craziest hamster in the litter. LIFT ALL THE [heavy] THINGS!
Adopt a low-crap diet. Cut the wheat, cut the sweets, cut back on dairy that’s not homemade yogurt, don’t eat from a package. Start making water kefir again. Eat meats, veggies, and homemade broth with abandon. Get enough fat.
Forget all of the rules 10-15% of the time. This is possibly the most important part of any plan that’s built to last. Because, let’s be real. If someone puts a glob of tiramisu in front of my face, am I really going to devote half a neuron to the state of my postpartum belly? No.
And because, COOKIES.
I feel like I should post a “before” picture here.