it takes 9 months to make a baby...

and to lose 20lbs apparently.

In the time it takes an egg and sperm to grow into a full grown "feed me, clean me, let me sleep bundle of cuteness" I have lost a whopping 20lbs. Yes this is probably because for the first 5.5 I wasn't committed, got sick, sprained my ankle, had an attack or two but still 20lbs.

Now on one hand I'm super excited because my clothes fit better, some that were too small before now fit and others are becoming too big. If I keep my core muscles engaged it looks like I have a two vertical pack forming under the top layer of fat. I look younger because I'm skinnier - I think fat can age a person. I won the weightloss challenge at work. I can run for more than a mile continuously even with some pretty steep hills.

On the other hand... I should have lost more... I feel like at least 20-30lbs more. It was 9 months for goodness sake.

Now it is officially summer and "OMG, I hate clothes" hot but I am not "Let's get naked" thin. Yesterday I thought about those nine months a little harder as I worked to get a sleeping Tink and half awake LoLo out of the car so we could go to the market in 91 degrees. I broke a sweat, a nail and I'm sure a record for how fast you can go from cool to sweating without being menapausal. Aside from doing it in a two door car, it made me realize that I need to get my life (body) together if I'm going to keep asking God for twins.

So I was thinking about changing the movement from "Losing a Toddler to Find Sexy" to "Losing a Toddler to get ready for Toddlers"  no??

Acceptance

When I started on the road to losing a toddler I was in a pretty bad place mentally. I knew that where I was wasn't healthy and that my mothers "loving" comments about my new body additions were only going to get worse if I didn't do anything.

I would like to continue to lie to myself to say that I've always been accepting of my body and the way I look but that isn't helping me or you. For a long time, I was accepting of my "big bones" and the extra fat they carried. And why shouldn't I be? My family has always accepted it, my friends accepted it, my love interests accepted it and society did to.

That acceptance is what got me here and has me fighting to get back away from it. Now by no means do I think I will ever (in a crack free manner) get down to a size 6 and I have no desire to be that small. But over the course of time in becoming happy with me and accepting who I am, I've determined that there are some things that I refuse to accept from anyone anymore including:

1. I will not accept that being 5inches taller than the people in my immediate circle makes it okay for me to be obese

2. I will not accept that because I have a "coke bottle" shape that it is okay to be obese

3. I will not accept that thick does not equal fat... it does. That is conditioning that makes you think otherwise

4. I will not accept that I have to have a certain body size to be loved.

5. I will not accept that just because I don't have any diseases traditionally associated with obesity that I shouldn't be worried about my weight

6. I will not accept the mind games that clothing manufactures try to play with my self esteem and that little number on the tag

7. I will not accept anyone not accepting me because I'm not "modelesque" when I'm in the list of healthy and active

and so much more...

I'm only willing to accept that I love me for me.

I am going to keep working towards being the healthist me that I can be.

My thigh muscles are broken!

Imagine it...

you just hit a base it that dropped behind second base and sprint to 1st. Runner on 1st gets to 2nd... as you stand at 1st cheering on your teammate at bat... you wait anxiously for the 1st base coach to tell you to run. He hits the ball... fast and hard. You start running...as you get to 2nd you look up to see the signal to keep going, you get to 3rd and look up to see the signal to go home... you push it and you make it and the crowd goes wild!!! Right? WRONG!!! well not completely but ...

In actuality, you dread this hit because your legs feel weird from your sprint to 1st. Once he hit the ball you take off running, after you run for what seems like an eternity you hit and as you are rounding out to 3rd they scream out keep going and run faster and your only reply is "I CAN'T" because your mind and legs are in the middle of an argument and your legs have thrown a coup.  Then just as you pass 3rd where you just knew the base coach was going to hold you but didn't...your teammate who hit the ball while you were on 1st starts chanting in your ear that he is right behind you and that he is going to catch you.... yeah, you read that right... the batter has caught up to you.

While everyone else is cheering at the three score hit that just happened, that is when I realize that my thigh muscles are on FIRE... like omg, somebody shot the sheriff, the deputy and the bank robber. I'm walking but my brain is no longer in control of what my legs are doing...there is an intruder in the control room.

So I start my recap:
I stretched
I did run to 1st on my first hit and I didn't hurt
I only did 1.4miles on Monday after practice
I stretched
I had plenty of water
I had a banana with my cereal
I stretched
I've been runninng
My ankles feel great
I stretched

They said I ran faster than they have seen me run...
They said I sprinted to first pretty fast (with the bat)...
They said great hit and great run...

So why do I feel like this? why?

Because my thigh muscles are BROKEN.

It is the only logical explanation...broken muscles, not torn...just broken.

So apparently between running and softball my thighs have decided it is going to lead the next leg of the movement to finding sexy #1toddlerdown1togo

I did it!

It took 4 months, signing up for a half marathon, spraining my ankle and going into extreme panic about turning 30 but I officially lost a toddler... and that is when I realized that I needed to lose another toddler.

It was the high that you feel after conquering the scariest rollercoaster in the amusement park...and then a storm rolls in and all the rides are closed. The high of finding out that the shoes you have been window stalking are now 50% and the last pair they have is your size...and then you remember that you don't have any money in the bank to buy them. The high of your favorite team making it to the World Series...and then realizing that you will be in a remote location with no access to watch or hear the game.... Lauren sang about it " Oh and it all, it all falls down"

Everyone and I mean EVERYONE has tried to convince me of how great I'm doing and to keep up the good work but the reality of it is that I'm over it. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm happy that the first toddler is gone. My clothes fit better. Clothes that I used to be able to fit now fit again. Life is good except I'm not done.

I was watching Scrubs last night and Dr. Cox gave some good advice: The key to reaching your weight loss goal is to hate your body. It sounds bad but the more I thought about it, he was right. If you love your body, you have no reason to fight through the fits of life that make you want to eat everything that you aren't supposed to eat. If you think you look all that, you have no drive to run 3 miles after softball practice in the rain and skip the bag of chips. So I guess I have the motivation to keep going... I'm not happy with my body yet.

1 Toddler down

1 Toddler to go

So far I've found really cute...

still working towards sexy