Pardon me for a moment as I have a huge pointless stupid rant.
Two weeks ago I took one long look at myself in the mirror, looked down at my most decidedly no longer infant daughter, and decided it was high time to get my eating and lack of exercise under control. I’m proud to say I only gained 35lbs with this last pregnancy. (Way better than the 65lb gulp of the first one.) I pretty rapidly lost 20lbs, but the last 15 have stuck around like a house guest that just won’t take a hint.
Work stress and lack of sleep kept me from eating well and exercising at all. But seeing as I quit my job and all, I no longer had that nifty excuse. Granted, we’re still not sleeping much around here, but at least I have some time during the day to move a bit and fewer excuses to eat the kind of crap I was inhaling at work every time something upset or irritated me, which was about every three minutes for a while at the end there.
Enter the new gym membership. Ta dah!
Two weeks ago I joined a gym. Oh, yes I did. Not a fancy one, no towel service, no high end lotions in the showers, but it has lots of machines and some decent fitness classes. I started going the day after I joined. Strapped on my cruddy old sneakers, found sweats that fit and a sports bra I could squeeze into, loaded up my brand new iPod, and joined the throngs of sweaty gymgoers going nowhere fast on their elliptical machines, treadmills, and stair machines. The following Monday I started attending the fitness classes.
But everyone knows that exercising isn’t enough. I also had to start eating better. Bad. Bad chocolate. Stop being so good.
Inspired by my fellow team mates I jumped back on the Weight Watchers bandwagon, swore off cookies and chocolate, and started eating more veggies. And I’ve been doing great! I’ve been eating well for two weeks. I didn’t even eat a whole cupcake at Little L’s party. I’ve been cooking healthy dinners for M, having salad for lunch; the whole nine yards. No lying, cheating, or falling off the wagon.
And so: “Why the frustration?”, I’m sure you’re wondering.
Well, that’s simple. After two weeks of eating well and exercising about 5 times a week, I have lost a royal 1.4 lbs. Wait. That’s not actually true. I lost 2.5 lbs and GAINED ONE BACK. Where? Where did this pound come from?
Do not tell me that it’s because I’m gaining muscle. Do not tell me that my measurements are getting better. They’re not. Trust me. If they were my pants would fit better, and they don’t.
Instead, please tell me when the pounds are going to “magically come off” the way all my friends keep promising. Because frankly I don’t believe them. And if all I’m doing is trading muscle for fat, then I’m going to stop with the gym, because I’d rather not weigh this much if you don’t mind.
This is the first time ever that I’ve gone on Weight Watchers and not lost a bunch of weight during the first two weeks. I do better on it when I don’t exercise. So why am I torturing myself with dungeon inspired fitness classes and hours on the treadmill and elliptical machine?