A Better Idea For All This Weight

The average weight (mass) of two human arms is 3.35 kg, according to WikiAnswers. For those of us backward English system users, that's 7.39 pounds, or 3.7 pounds each.

Now, I have four children. Don't you think it would make sense for a mother to grow an extra arm for each new child she has? Those of you who are moms out there, know what I mean!

For me, that would be 3.7 pounds per arm x 4 new arms = 14.8 pounds

Hey...I'm 15 pounds overweight! Now, don't you think that an extra arm would make more sense than useless, artery clogging flab? I do.

I'm gonna have to talk to The Big Guy about this idea...

How Did I Get Here? Part III

I thought Part III would be my final, "I did it!" post. But the more I think about it, the more I have to say.

Remember when I said that my body just seemed to know that I'd be making babies, so it put on weight?

Yeah, well, that's not the whole story.

I also stopped running several times a week.

I also ate at restaurants more often.

I also began eating the same sized portions as my 200 pound boyfriend.

No so spontaneous after all...

How Did I Get Here? Part II

For Part I, click HERE.

About three months after meeting my husband to be, I noticed that my clothes weren't fitting quite right.

I had never owned a scale in my life...just weighed myself on the gym's scale from time to time. I noticed occasional "water weight" fluctuations, but they could almost always be attributed to food I'd eaten. But this water didn't seem to be going anywhere. So I bought my first scale.

I knew that my "normal" weight to that point was 125 pounds. I stepped on the scale, and the red digital numbers screamed back at me: 140. What?! That's not water!!

It's almost like my body knew before I did that I'd be making babies with this guy, and it had better get ready!

140 was actually a pretty good weight for me. I felt good. I looked good. I was healthy. I was insanely happy...but that had more to do with the guy than the weight :)

I stayed at 140 for the next 5 years. We graduated from college, we got married, we bought a house, we got jobs. Life was awesome. I was so in love and so happy.

And then we decided to have a baby.

Now, I'm a planner. I had it calculated practically to the second when I'd get pregnant. We paid off the bills so I could be a SAHM. I went off the pill...but those darn pregnancy tests kept coming back negative!

Eventually, we had to pursue professional help. Dr. Getchaprego (as we called him), informed me that I wasn't ovulating. I took the appropriate drugs...and I got pregnant the very first time. Nine months later, my precious Benjamin came into our lives. I gained about 30 pounds during pregnancy. I was down to my normal 140 pounds about 4 months after his birth.

We learned that I was pregnant again when Benjamin was 6 months old. I had another blessedly healthy pregnancy, and we had a healthy little girl...my sweet Clara Rose.

It was then that I started to struggle with post-partum depression.

I was determined to not be "depressed". I thought I just needed some extra sleep...so hubby did all he could to get up with babies and let me sleep in mornings. Didn't work.

I thought I just needed some exercise and "me" time...we bought me a gym membership and I began doing aerobics and lifting weights 3 times a week. Didn't work.

Finally, I relented and took an antidepressant. Sweet relief. Sometimes God gives healing in ways that I don't like...but at that point I just wanted healing.

Through all that exercise though, I got back in shape. I was back down to about 143 pounds. (3 pounds over my ideal)

When Clara was 2, we decided to try for another baby. It wasn't happening. The doc put me on progesterone, which seemed to add 5 pounds to my rear end over night. It also enabled me to get pregnant, so I didn't care one little bit about the extra padding :) (8 pounds over my ideal)

I gained another 30 pounds with that pregnancy, and our incredible Samantha was the result. I couldn't have been happier. She was a dream baby in every way, and I fell in love with her immediately.

After Sammy's birth, I lost all but about 3 pounds of the "baby weight". (11 pounds over my ideal)

I weaned Samantha from nursing when she was 13 months old, and learned that I was pregnant again one month later (seems my fertility problems are gone for good!!).

Again, a healthy pregnancy and my beautiful baby boy, Thomas. Bliss. And lots of feelings of being overwhelmed. But mostly happiness. I wouldn't change a thing.

And here I am. Thomas is going on 10 months old, and I've lost all but 4 pounds of my latest pregnancy weight...which brings me to 16 pounds over my ideal weight.

Given my history of being super skinny, very lean, and with lots of efficient fat burning muscle, being HERE (over weight, not so lean, and much less muscle) is a bit of a rude surprise!

But that's it. That's how I got here. This is my new starting point. I look forward to writing my "How Did I Get Here? Part III" post, where I'll write all about how I got back down to around 140 pounds :)

How Did I Get Here?

As I prepared and ate my lunch today, I was thinking about how it is that I got here...how I got to be 15 pounds overweight, and struggling so much to lose it.

Growing up, I was a skinny kid. Not thin, not fit...skinny. Ribs and shin bones showing skinny. It's not that I didn't eat. I did. A LOT. I guess I was blessed with a fast metabolism or something.

I was 5'8" all through high school, and about 105 pounds. That's really skinny. That's 40 pounds lighter that I am now!

I was very active...cheerleading, track, basketball. I rode my bike and walked a lot.

We moved to a new city for my junior and senior years of high school. I was lonely, so threw myself into the two things I was really involved in: basketball and school. It was the only time I can ever remember getting straight A's! And I also made the varsity basketball team. I think I must have just barely squeaked my way onto the team...wasn't all that good and didn't get much court time during games. But I worked my hiney off during practice!

I was getting a really intense workout about 2 1/2 hours every day. At the end of the BB season my junior year, I was up to 125 pounds...still too light for my height, but in very good shape! It was the heaviest I'd ever been, and I was all muscle.

My senior year, I chose to quit basketball (a hard decision, I'd been playing since the 3rd grade!). I had an opportunity to be a high school intern at a local high tech company, and just couldn't pass up the opportunity. The drop in exercise caused me to drop muscle. I dropped down to 120 pounds, and there I stayed.

I was at 120 my senior year of high school, and my first 4 years of college. I was eating like a horse, and I was eating junk...pizza, nachos, margaritas, burgers, fries.

I was too skinny. In fact, I went in for a free student "fitness exam" at the local health center. They tested all sorts of stuff, and I was within the normal to fit rages...until it came to the body fat test. I laid on a table, and the guy hooked me up to all sorts of electrodes.

Evidently, electricity flows through fat differently than it does through the other tissues in a human body. By turning on the electricity and measuring the resistance to the electricity's flow, they can determine a body fat content pretty accurately.

The guy did the test, mumbled something like "Well, that can't be right", unhooked me, did it again, mumbled a few other statements, and then unhooked me with an exasperated sigh. "I don't know...I think there's something wrong with my machine."

But then he stopped, looked me over, and asked "Are you getting your period?"

Well, excuse me?! I was about 19 years old...this wasn't a topic I was comfortable discussing with the guy at the health center!

"If you're not, then the test might actually be working."

I wasn't. It turns out, I had so little fat, that my body wasn't even working right!

Women are supposed to have more body fat than men, and my fat content was well below what was normal for an athletic man. Like I said...skinny.

And then, I met a very tall, handsome, broad shouldered, green-eyed man. My husband to be.

Small Victory

I was determined to have a nutritious lunch today. I made myself a wrap with lettuce, hummus, red onion, and turkey on a piece of Flat Out Bread. I also had some baby carrots, and dipped them in hummus. And of course, there was a Diet Pepsi to drink. I know, I know, aspartame and all it's evils. Hey, I'm doing baby steps here.

From a nutrition standpoint, pretty darn good! Lots of veggies, lean protein, and fiber.

I sat and looked at my plate, and really wished that I had some nachos in front of me instead. I got past that thought though, and just looked at the food from a volume perspective. Is this enough food for me? Will I still be hungry? Is this too much food? I try to envision the size of my stomach...does this seem like a good amount of food for me? It seemed a bit on the "too much" side, but at least it was "too much" veggies, instead of "too much" fat and sugar. I dug in.

I ate slowly. Not because I know that it's healthy to eat slowly so that I can give my stomach time to tell my brain it's full. I ate slowly because I was also feeding Thomas, and chasing after Samantha.

There came a point where I was really enjoying my meal, but I realized that I was just plain full. A miracle, I know.

I wish I could say that it was easy for me to put down the food and just stop, but it was work. It was yummy! I was enjoying eating it. I didn't want to be full. On a normal day, I would have just finished it off. On a normal day, I would have said "don't want to waste" to justify eating it.

But then I thought...is it more a shame to waste good food, or to keep putting that food into my body when I know my body doesn't need it?

I decided to choose me. I decided to waste food (I didn't think it would be very good left-over), and to make a decision that was the best for the health of my body.

Now...since I'm being honest, I should confess that I ate a handful of M&M's as I was doing the lunch dishes. But I would have done that even if I had finished my meal. I know...but remember, baby steps!

And One More Tidbit Of Sucky Motivation...

All three of my children who are able to express themselves with words have informed me lately that I...

"have a big tummy"
"have a baby in there?"
"look like I have a baby"

Lovely.

Why Change?

Someone once told me that no one ever makes a change in their life until it is too painful to stay the way they are. I think I've finally reached that point.

I gained a few pounds during my vacation. I came back and only have a couple of items of clothes that fit me.

I spent a bunch of money this past spring to buy new clothes. I was already dismayed to be buying a size that I know is bigger than I should be wearing. But after years and years of being pregnant, I had no summer clothes to wear. I bought them, and promised myself that they wouldn't fit for long.

Turns out I was right, but them being too SMALL isn't quite what I had in mind.

I'll be damned if I'm gonna go buy clothes that are, yet, bigger than my already "big" clothes.

Being pissed and miserable...not exactly my favorite kind of motivation, but effective all the same.