Project 20: The Beginning

Because I'm nothing if not an overachiever of the highest order, I'm going to empower the denizens of the innerwebs to badger ridicule motivate me to the accomplishing of my next goal:  losing 20 pounds.  I'm pretty fortunate in that I'm fairly tall (5'8") and carry weight well for having no torso to speak of.  No, seriously, if you were to look up 'high-waisted' in the Dysmorphic Body Dictionary, my picture would be next to it.  (I totally made that dictionary up but you never know, it could happen.)  Why?  Why the need to lose weight when I'm fighting my husband off every night?  Well, it's...complicated.

When Noah was born, I was at my heaviest ever (just about 200 lbs).  I had gained roughly 30 lbs with him and was generally...blergh before getting pregnant.  Clothes were too tight, I didn't feel good about myself and being an 'older' mom (I was 35 when he was born, 38 now), am acutely aware how important my health is/will be to being an active and involved parent in the years to come.  I hate/loathe/despise clothes shopping for myself (for the kids? Bring it.  Just let me get my purse...) so there was the sanity aspect.  Then the money aspect mostly being in the 'we can't afford to get me a new wardrobe' vein so I better be able to wear what I have comfortably as I enjoy having feeling in my legs.  It's a thing.  But the troubling reason is that it will be something that I can control.  I know, this thought process can lead to disordered eating which is why I am reluctant to add it to the list but if I'm being honest with myself, it's a legitimate reason albeit not the primary one (see: money for reason number one). My thought process is that if I can get to a place where I feel better about myself and more confident, I will then feel more empowered to deal with the current issues that seem to beat me down on a regular basis.  Confidence breeds confidence and whether that means searching outside the company for the career fulfillment I've been lacking or finally advocating for myself, it's a win-win for, well, me. 

I've studied food science, in college I dabbled in teaching aerobics and I know that calories burned need to exceed calories consumed for any sustained weight loss.  My breakfast is a bowl of cereal (Raisin Bran Crunch - you know, for the fiber) (am old), lunch is a PB&J sandwich and a 100-calorie bag of mini-pretzels (not because they are 100 calories but because they are perfect lunch sized packages (am lazy) and sometimes yogurt or fruity and dinner is usually a protein, starch and vegetable (and cheese. Because everything is better with cheese.)  (And yes, I snack.  Chips and hummus, Triscuits and cheese and I've been known to eat peanut butter straight out of the jar with a spoon. Mmm, peanut butter. And dark chocolate...anything. And beer. And wine.) (I should probably stop now.) So I know how to eat healthy, the foundations are there but what is driving this is that I breastfed nursed pumped breastmilk for Noah for 15 months and holy cow, I dropped another 30 lbs after the baby weight disappeared.  I was the thinnest I had been in years, dating to before my wedding.  I felt good and looked good.  I even bought a size 6 dress for the first time ever and rocked it at my parents' 40th wedding anniversary party.  But slowly, slowly, as the pump relationship ended, the weight crept back which leaves me here: vaguely dissatisfied, dreading shorts season. Which for some odd reason came early to the Mid-Atlantic this year.  (Mother Nature, this middle finger is for you.) And the extra skin round the middle courtesy of birthing a 9 and a half and a 10 and a half pounder which will never revert to 'normal' is a particularly lovely touch.

I have a lot of resources at my disposal: an elliptical machine in the basement, exercise programs sponsored by my work place, sneakers, an alarm clock and a Wii Zumba game.  I walk at lunch and carry the tech samples on foot rather than drive (unless it's pouring rain and/or there are more than four buckets because even I have got limits). I've got the food piece pretty under control, where I need help, dear pretty people of the innerwebs, is in finding the push to set the alarm for 4/4:30 am to get up and exercise.  If not for me, do it for my kids.  WON'T ANYONE THINK OF THE CHILDREN?

Here is it, the 'Starting' photo (I apologize for the big glaring corona where my head would be but I cannot for the life of me figure out how to turn off the flash on the camera:




It's a great baby bump. Too bad it's a food baby. I've named it 'Enchilada'.

 Starting Stats:
Pounds: 164
Blood pressure: NA (the RN at work wasn't doing her house calls today drat it all)

Oh goody, this won't be embarrassing at all.  Man I really need to think these things through more before committing to them.