Back in the Saddle

I’ve been dreading making this post for a while now. Mainly because I know what it means for me. It means that it’s time to get on the ball. To get back in the saddle, and by that I mean the dreaded bike saddle that has claimed so many hours of my life and has caused my lady parts so much pain. Sorry for the TMI, but such is the life of a triathlete.

You see- recently I gave birth to this ball of deliciousness (sorry for the lack of words, but I can’t help but want to bite into his chubby little cheeks ❤ ):

I guess I should introduce my newest son, Micah Kallai (I’ll post more about my experience with him later). He is my third and biggest son from birth yet. A whopping 11 pounds, 2 ounces! No, I didn’t have gestational diabetes, and NO – I didn’t birth him vaginally (thank the Lawd above, sweet and gracious Jesus.) However, I will say that although there’s something cool about being able to say you carried an 11 pound baby, the weight gain and bodily changes can be quite painful and NOT cool. And did I ever experience it with this kiddo.

I guess you could say that this is not a foreign experience for me. With all three of my pregnancies, I gained anywhere from 35-50 pounds. (They were all big babies.) Thankfully with each, I was able to get the weight off with a little bit of hard work, but this time around has been no exception. I’m not afraid to admit that I gained 50 pounds with this sweet baby. It’s easy to do when genetics grace you with the gift of having big kids. Heck, it’s easy to do with any pregnancy for that matter. However, now that I’m 3 months postpartum, it’s TIME. Time to get this weight off for the third time. (I should provide a disclaimer here stating that 20 of the 50 pounds were already off by the time I got home from the hospital, lol.) But I still have at least 30 to go.

Now here’s where I insert my vulnerability time. I’m gonna be real with y’all for just a minute. The other night, I was sitting on the couch, doing my loads and loads of laundry while watching football, and I began to fold some of my own clothes. I was just going through the motions- folding, hanging, moving to the next piece of clothing…blah, blah blah.  When all of the sudden- HOLY mother of smokes! I had just laid out a pair of my own underwear from pre-pregnancy followed by a pair of my maternity underwear, and NO joke- the current drawers nearly swallowed the old ones. By that, I mean they were almost DOUBLE the size. I looked over at my husband who was sitting next to me and I think all I got out was, “Sh*t. Oh my gawd! Look at this!” We actually both laughed, and then I cried tears from laughter. (Don’t worry- he didn’t make me feel bad at all. In fact, he is the perfect husband who loves all of my flaws. But, if you understand us at all, this is just our sense of humor.)

So here it was. This was “the” moment. You know that moment when you look at a photo of yourself and gasp? When you didn’t realize how fat you’ve gotten over the years until you see it in the photo? (I swear I didn’t look like this in the mirror this morning.) Well, this was just that but just a different form of it. It took looking at my underwear to realize that something needs to change NOW.

I don’t want to get into a discussion about this now, but I understand I have to use the word fat with caution. It’s relative. Point blank. What’s fat for me may not be fat for others. What’s fat for others may not be fat to me. At the end of the day, I am currently considered to be obese. (And don’t even get me started on that discussion, since BMI standards and measurements can be extremely flawed.) But, I know myself. And I’m okay to admit that I am fat for me and by my standards. I’m waking up with hurting joints, I’m suffering from inflammation problems apart from my arthritis, and I am out of breath when going up the stairs. And I hate feeling this way. Always have and always will.

So here’s where I come back to the beginning again. Time to get back in the saddle. Time to start training again and working towards my new, healthy life for the third time. Time to quit making excuses and start putting in the work. As an accountability, I’m going to share this gem with you. Here’s where I was a year ago (left), and here’s where I am now (right):

I hope to see the me on the left again soon.

 

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