Thursday, March 4, 2010

Back! Unfortunately with 100% more muffintop...

   First off, I apologize for missing my day to post last month.  Life has been interesting.  You all know how that goes, I'm sure.  Things have settled down to a dull roar now, and we're to the "aftermath" stage.  To wit:
   I weighed 130 pounds when I got pregnant with Big Child, and by the time I waddled into Labor and Delivery thirty-five weeks later I was 200 pounds even.  Yeah, I was that woman.  Five months of bedrest is a LOT of boredom snacking, y'all.

   It took me eighteen months to lose the weight.

   I started my pregnancy with Middle child at 130, exercised religiously, ate healthfully and still went back up to 200.  Apparently that's just what my body does.

   Because Middle Child was a screaming bundle of ear-infected outrage and most of 2004-2006 is a blur to me anyway, I really couldn't tell you what I weighed when I got pregnant with Little Child.  It probably wasn't any less than 170 though, seeing as how Middle Child was only four months old at the time.  Whoops.

   At least I only gained thirty pounds during that pregnancy; my body seems to feel that 200 is a nice, round number to end a pregnancy at, regardless of gestational period.

   By the time Little Child was three months old, I was down to 125 pounds.  People raved about my miraculous weight loss, and asked me what my secret was.  I told them it was called the "OH MY GOD MY BABY'S GONNA DIIIIIIET" and that I didn't recommend it.  It consists of very little sleep wrapped around a critically ill newborn in a hospital crib (one night when Little Child and I were both inconsolable a very kind older nurse put her arm around me and my bundle of squalling, swaddled misery and said "you know, those cribs can hold up to two hundred pounds..." and it was the best night of sleep I ever got, even if it was only five hours and I woke up to a herd of residents staring down at me, braless and drooling, cradling their patient) and an ocean's worth of nurse's station coffee. 

   In the wake of my separation and during my divorce, I got rather zaftig again, then developed insulin resistance, got serious about diet and exercise, and got in the best shape of my life through running and yoga.  Of course, THEN I had a couple of major surgeries last summer, and while I initially lost a lot of weight (peritonitis: almost as effective as the "OH MY GOD MY BABY'S GONNA DIIIIIIIET!"), I strayed from the path of dietary and exercise righteousness and haven't been back since.

   Here lately I've developed a bipolar mixture of "fat and happy syndrome" (when you marry your soulmate, who also happens to be a chef, that is what happens) and "stress-eater's muffin-top" (when your ex decompensates in the wake of your remarriage and you spend your wedding night in the company of CPS workers, that is what happens) and something's got to give.  I'm not telling you what I weigh right now.  Less than what I weighed when I gave birth to my children, and more than what I weighed after the "OH MY GOD MY BABY'S GONNA DIIIIIIET."  I actually don't know, because we don't own a scale; we only get weighed at doctors' offices.  But it's time to lose a few pounds and get into better shape.  Maybe even put that YMCA membership to good use again...

   Do you gain or lose weight when you're under stress?  Any tips for me?  Let's talk.

MFA Mama can usually be found at

1 comment:

  1. I gain weight, unfortunately. And not from excessive eating, either. I think the years and years of chronic stress and low-grade anxiety have changed my metabolism or something. It's pretty grim, though...
    If you discover anything revolutionary, keep me posted!