there must be something so alluring and comfy about me that fat just doesn't want to leave. no matter how much i cut back on the sweets or how much i work out, they've made a home here and they're in it for the long haul.
Then one day i learned an interesting fact... i should actually sweat at the gym before i'll notice a difference. evidently a number four on the treadmill is considered a slow, pathetic pace. so, not to be outdone by others, i pushed it up to a five. yes, you can tell i'm serious about losing this baby weight.
weeks, then months go by - and nothing. i'm starting to feel discouraged. my old friend mint chocolate chip is starting to call for me. but no, i was strong. i let the call go unanswered. it was a sad day. but, my dear friends, it payed off. a few days later, at the gym, i'm in the back weighing myself and in an unbelievable moment... i had lost 7 ounces. my fists were up in the air and before i could catch my self i'm yelling, "that's right baby". i didn't even care that people were watching me, nor did i care it was only 7 ounces. for the first time, the scale was going down.
i pushed the treadmill up to number six that day.
the next morning, i went to the scale again. a bit nervous. would it be back up? would it be the same? neither. it had gone down 9 ounces. I had lost a whole pound. my shoulders start bouncin', my hips are swayin' and i start hummin' "i'm bringing sexy back". again, more odd stares - but i didn't care. i'd lost a whole pound. my hard work was finally paying off.
and then, it happened.
that night, on a walk, noah was complaining that he was tired. the caring and concerned mother in me told him to quite whining and that he couldn't ride his bike any more because if he couldn't walk 1/2 a mile without complaining, then that was a problem. no, i don't notice his flushed cheeks or sad look - nooo, instead i go on about how we're getting out more and that too many American children were out of shape. blah, blah, blah. about 20 minutes after we got home, he complained he was cold. my stomach dropped as i took his temperature. 102.5. i'm lecturing my kid on not being lazy and he's walking around with a 102.5 fever. no wonder he was tired. an obvious low point in my mothering skills. anyway - sure enough, reagan had a fever as well. 102. so, we stayed home the next day, and the next and by the third day of such high fevers, neither of them eating or sleeping, i took them to the doctor. they had hand, foot and mouth disease. (the doctor assured me this had nothing to do with animals or mad cow disease - as was my assumption) this virus can stay dormant in their bodies for up to two weeks and once it presents itself can last for 5 to 10 days. of course, it's highly contagious and we were quarantined to the house for the full 10 days.
Ten days. no adult interaction, no play dates for the kids, no one else to help entertain noah. no trips to costco or target. i knew i was in real trouble when i actually stopped what i was doing to watch my favorite part of Baby Mozart. by the fourth day of confinement, with no end in sight - i gave in to the calls of my dear friend, mint chocolate chip. unfortunately, it brought a friend - Rocky Road. but that felt so appropriate as my road was rocky. it could relate. And relate they did.
after two weeks of confinement, recovery and trying to re-motivate myself - i finally went back to the gym.
i'd gained 6 pounds.
i actually turned the machine off, unplugged it - in case it needed to reboot - and it still showed a gain of 6 pounds. curse you mint chocolate chip. you are no friend of mine.
The moral of this story? when you're finally losing weight, and your kids get sick. take them to the gym anyway.
