I always weigh myself in the morning before I eat or drink anything and immediately after peeing. I look down at the square object that is about to set my mood for the day. Okay, tap the middle. Wait for the EEEEEE, then 0.00. Now step on lightly. I look straight ahead. Think light. Think thin. Okay, now look down! Wait, this must be wrong.
Of course, what was I THINKING?? I take off my tank top and pajama pants. I step back on the scale, naked this time. The number is the same. Seriously? My clothes don’t weigh anything!? Great. How many times this week did I treat myself to ice cream? Well, looks like it is time to get back on the healthy eating wagon.
I put my clothes back on and get ready to start the day. Today is the first day that I am going to be really disciplined about eating. That’s right. No processed food. No eating out. No sugar. Only healthy, low-calorie food. I am going to be so good about it that I will probably lose five pounds before the week is over. I am motivated all the way to the kitchen.
Unfortunately, my kids ask me to make Belgium waffles with strawberries and my mouth starts to water as my stomach growls. Now my struggle is not only with the scale but also with my willpower.
I believe that something happens to a woman’s body after having kids. After that first baby, even with the weight gone, things shift. I am not using it as an excuse. It just seemed to be easier for me to lose the weight after my first and second baby than it is with my third. I wonder if that is true for other women?
Maybe it is more difficult for me to find the time to exercise with three small kids. But that still doesn’t explain why my wonderful nursing breasts have lost some of their volume and what is missing from my chest seems to have moved to around my waist, the dreaded “Mommy Middle.”
Maybe I’m a little sensitive. Like when people tell me, “You look good for having three kids!” Oh, thanks. What kind of backhanded compliment is that? If I didn’t have three kids, would you consider me a fatty? How I get self-conscious when my 4-year-old bounces his LEGO figurine off my stomach and makes an exaggerated BOINGGG sound.