Because I'm an American woman, I don't have better things to worry about than the way I look and what I eat (and the relationship between the two). Now, on the average day, I don't give it too much thought. But every so often, for a variety of different reasons, I'll launch myself into I Will Get Thin And Fit mode.
And then I disengage in about 3 weeks. Or 3 days.
Don't believe me? Look, I've chronicled much of it here, here, here, here, and here.
[Ocular warning: Some of those links go back to my old blog, which is a bit of a color shock]
If you have neither the time nor the inclination to read up on old posts, let me summarize that my issues with losing weight are always owing to some combination of the following factors: I'm lazy, I'm busy, I'm tired, I'm cheap, and food is delicious. That's all. Otherwise I'd look like Kate Upton. I swear it.
But anyway over the last couple of years I hadn't really thought much about it. Then I got pregnant and really didn't think about it. Then I had Oscar and lost nearly all of the my pregnancy weight in a matter of weeks. And when it came to the remaining poundage, I took refuge in the "well, I just had a baby" excuse.
Not that it's just an excuse. I'm happy I have so much good stuff going on, but between the demands of a working full time, taking care of a baby, and maintaining the sort of household expected of adults, it's a wonder I manage to keep myself outfitted in clean underwear daily. Never mind fitting in a quick 3 mile jog or preparing a wholesome meal of freshly steamed this and ginger marinated that. [Whenever I see flawless, yoga-pants wearing MILFs in the produce section of Whole Foods I resist the urge to throw sweet potatoes at their smiling heads.]
It's no surprise that sometime in the hazy daze of the last 6 months, the scale started going back up the other direction. Jeans got tighter. Arms got flabbier. I found myself saying and thinking the things I remember from Slim Fast commercials on TV when I was younger. "I avoid cameras." "I see pictures of myself and can't believe it's me." "I hate the way my clothes fit."
AND THEN one day I was in a gift shop looking at some trinket when a guy behind me said, "I already brought one of those to the register, sweetheart." Puzzled, I spun around to find an embarrassed man who quickly explained, "I thought you were my daughter for a second. So sorry!" All was well and good until I spotted the man with said daughter minutes later. She was a young woman I would've guessed had 50 to 75 pounds on me. And he'd mistaken me for her. From behind, no less.
Fortunately by the time that incident occurred I'd already ordered the Insanity workout system, used, from a seller on Amazon. It was listed with the ominous description, "This was way too hard for me. Good luck!"
What is Insanity, you ask? Only the latest fitness racket I've been suckered into. Check out this video if you haven't seen the infomercial.
And if you haven't seen the infomercial, you must not be awake watching TV every morning at 6:30 like I am. I think I sat through the full infomercial no less than fifteen times before I finally broke down and ordered it.
At the time of writing this, I'm in my third week of the program. I'll give you my full report and week to week updates at the end of month one. Will I lose twenty pounds? Will I be offered a modeling contract? Will I abandon all hope and use Disc 2: Plyometric Cardio Circuit as a McFlurry coaster? Stay tuned.