September 2011 archive

I’m startin with the Chub in the mirror.……

You haven’t seen a blog from me in two weeks because I have been film­ing a new fit­ness video. No, not because I have become the mod­el of health. Instead because I have done noth­ing but be a slug and Richard Sim­mons want­ed me to come out and mod­el for a new Sweat­in video with all of the oth­er “Big Mamas.” OK, that’s not true either. The fact of the mat­ter is, just like every oth­er time in my life that I have some­how com­mit­ted to becom­ing phys­i­cal­ly fit and active; I got bored and took a vaca­tion. I have sev­er­al excus­es, which I am more than hap­py to share. 
There was a final work­out, but it made me cross eyed. Wouldn’t you quit too?
1.       It was too damn hot-This could be viewed as a rea­son­able excuse. We did have record hot temps and it would be dan­ger­ous for even the most sea­soned pro­fes­sion­al to be out run­ning. I do, how­ev­er, have a very nice air-con­di­tioned alter­na­tive. My father gave my moth­er a brand new top-of-the-line tread­mill for Christ­mas. And since my parent’s dri­ve­way is exact­ly 0.6 miles from my own, there is no rea­son that I did not use said tread­mill. Let us also not for­get that my moth­er watch­es my chil­dren four days a week and I am there the oth­er three as well.
The heat caused me and my chil­dren to become dehy­drat­ed. What 15-mon­th-old doesn’t need a 44oz DC?
2.       I was too tired-Why shouldn’t I be tired? I work a full time job, I have two small chil­dren and I have to keep up with house­work. How could I pos­si­bly fit in 30 min­utes of exer­cise? Well, chub­by, since you are the first wom­an ever to have a job AND be mar­ried with chil­dren, you cer­tain­ly should get a pass!
3.        There was a lot of TV to watch-Try­ing to bal­ance exer­cise when Hoard­ers, Jer­sey­li­cios, Teen Mom and Inter­ven­tion are on is tough. You add in Tod­dlers and Tiaras and Dance Moms and you might as well start serv­ing my meals in the bed­room. I have sev­er­al hours of trashy tele­vi­sion that I need to watch on a week­ly basis and I prefer to eat crap while I watch them, this com­bi­na­tion does not lend itself to exer­cise. Instead of work­ing hard to look good, I relied on the all black approach to hide under­neath.
Black Cloth­ing is slim­ming
This much black eye­lin­er is appalling
4.       Bren­nan messed up my C25K App-Of course I will blame it on the baby! He some­how got a hold of my phone and removed the app, or so I thought. When I went to rein­stall the app, I was told that it was already installed. What is a girl to do? Per­haps scroll through to the absolute last apps page on your iPhone and see that he sim­ply moved it, idiot!
5.       We have no healthy food in the house-It is hard to fol­low a prop­er low calo­rie diet when you cab­i­nets are stocked with sweet and salty carb-filled deli­cious treats! When the bananas turned brown, I tossed them. Per­haps it would have made more sense to wad­dle on over Schnucks to replen­ish the sup­ply instead of liv­ing off of a diet of fiber bars and Cheez its, because that was all that was around.

If there are no healthy options at home, by all means, eat out
6.       My body is bro­ken-Because my thy­roid doesn’t func­tion prop­er­ly, I am some­times ren­dered a use­less slug. Almost a year ago I was lit­er­al­ly falling apart, and I had no idea why. I went to the doc­tor to be treat­ed for sev­ere depres­sion and left with a pre­scrip­tion for Syn­throid. It turns out that my thy­roid lev­els were so out of whack, I had like­ly been func­tion­ing with­out it for YEARS! How do you not know that? The hair loss, extreme­ly itchy skin and absolute­ly no desire to get out of bed in the morn­ing was alarm­ing. The fact that I was so fat and bloat­ed that my face looked like some­one had blown me up with a bicy­cle pump was what final­ly made me think, hmm some­thing is wrong here.
Guess which one of us is 8 months preg­nant and which one can bare­ly open her eyes through the bloat?!?! 
And there you have it. All of the rea­sons why I could not do any­thing but eat and be lazy for two weeks.Now, I am pissed at myself. I should be close to fin­ish­ing the C25K pro­gram, but because I chose fat Colleen over healthy, I have to start again with week 5! It piss­es me off even more because I real­ly want­ed to be down to my wed­ding weight of 149 by my fifth anniver­sary on Sep­tem­ber 30, but instead I have gained two pounds and I am at 164. 
But what piss­es me off the most is that I promised myself that if I got to 150, I would buy myself a dar­ling pair of sequined Uggs. They are over-the-top and bor­der­line hideous, but I LOVE them and could total­ly pull them off! Instead of being cozy in a new pair of Uggs, my fat ass will be stay­ing warm with all of the extra fluff that is still hang­ing around my thighs and stom­ach. God, I am so aggra­vat­ed with myself.  I knew this would hap­pen, it always does, but I am bound and deter­mined to get it back togeth­er tomor­row. So help me God, I want those boots. I will be drag­ging myself out of bed in the morn­ing. No, I am not in it for the health­ier lifestyle, the sense of accom­plish­ment, the athleticism….Hell no, I want to strut my stuff in some cute boots and skin­ny jeans………….But for now, I am going to bask in the glo­ry of the deli­cious choco­late chip pan­cakes that I made for din­ner and tune into some trash TV.
God the­se are so ridicu­lous, I HAVE to have them!
*****Blog Bonus*****
While my weight gain may only be two pounds, I am afraid that it may have seri­ous­ly altered my phys­i­cal appear­ance, at least in the eyes of my youngest son. I was pick­ing the boys up from my mom’s last week as I always do. They were upstairs in Uncle Jimbo’s room, which hap­pens to have a Good­fel­las poster hang­ing on the wall. I heard laugh­ter com­ing from the room, so was all too eager to join in the fun. Jim­my was hold­ing Bren­nan who was point­ing at the poster and say­ing, “Mom­ma, mom­ma.” No, he wasn’t show­ing me any­thing; he was point­ing at Paul Sorvi­no and call­ing HIM Momma…..Perfect…..
It is like look­ing in the mir­ror