Mommy Thighs

I made the mistake of walking past the long mirror in Kayla’s room this morning wearing nothing but my granny panties. It is now the only full length mirror left in the house and I kind of like it that way as this accidental view of myself happens much less frequently. I stopped and stared at my hardly recognizable post-baby body. So close yet so far away from my first goal. “I’m a size awesome.” I whisper half heartedly under my breath trying to convince myself as I stare in disbelief at my still pale soft belly and touching thighs. Luckily I couldn’t stand there long torturing myself as Asher started crying and Payten was needing to be up for school. I am up to 10 minutes on this couch to 5k program. I about died when I saw this week it went up from running 8 to 20 so I slowed my pace and went 10 before stopping. The path I run is absolutely beautiful this time of year and I find it an addicting atmosphere. The leaves are starting to fall and if you go early enough, it’s cool and damp and you can see the fog lifting off of the lake. The cold air in my lungs is so refreshing and it feels so good to rip off that sweatshirt once you start working up a sweat. My face forces a smile at other passerby’s through the pain as I push the double stroller. Should I say hi, should I not say hi? It’s so awkward. But I am grateful for the strangers anyway as the numbers make me feel much safer. (Don’t worry, my mom bought me some pepper spray to take with me.) Usually the other runners give me a sympathetic look. I imagine they’re thinking “Awww poor Mom of twins, working so hard to get that baby weight off.” I don’t know whether this assumption is a blessing or a curse as of course only Asher is actually mine. Some of the walkers are even kind enough to cheer me on. “Keep up the good work!” they say. Or, “Look at the smoke comin’ off of those wheels!” I chuckle and press on just trying to make it to my next walking interval. Today I wore the wrong underwear and had to keep looking behind me so I could discretely adjust them. This morning I looked back, no one was there, picked the wedgie, and 2 seconds later a bike came up behind me, ‘Good morning, on your left!’ Oh for crying out loud, no way they didn’t see that one. Woops. I make a mental note to be more careful choosing my undergarments in the future. I have to pee, because it has been 20 minutes by now (30 is about the max I can go after my coffee in the morning.) and I consider just going right down my leg, but then I remember I only live 10 minutes away and I’m not a marathon runner so it would be slightly less acceptable and perhaps more noticeable then I’m presuming. Plus, once you make that decision, there’s no going back. I push it to the back of my mind and start thinking about those bad ass chicks I know that can run an entire 5K like it’s nothing. Maybe I’ll be one of those chicks one day. I try not to let my negative thoughts trump my positive ones and finish strong. I get home and after finally relieving my bladder, I immediately do my work out video of the day. I try to get in 30 minutes, doesn’t always work that way with the babies. Once I have collapsed on the ground I know that I have done everything I could for one day and carry on living the rest of the day for the little people that need me. You see, this hour of brutality, is crucial to my survival. It is the ONE thing I do for myself each and every day. It is what gets me up in the morning. Waking up and lacing up. I think, today is an opportunity that I have to be better than I was yesterday. Today I am grateful that I have arms and legs and that I can use them. Working out is a privilege that I have with being a work at home mom that I did not have at the office. Wow, listen to me, I sound like a rockstar! Well wait for it…my downfalls are coming. Every night it’s the same routine. Get naked and get on the scale before getting in the shower. The scale has hardly moved the past 2 months. It is torturous and mocks me. Yet I cling to it with all of the hope I can muster. I watch and wait, so desperate for that number to fall again. I was feeling pretty down on myself but my before and after photos quickly remind me to just keep on keepin on and trust the process. I am not ready to show them yet as I haven’t committed to the idea of my whole world seeing them, but maybe one day when I don’t look anything like that person anymore. Every time I hear those poems about embracing your stretch marks, I think “Yes! Yes, that’s the attitude of someone much less vain than me! This is how I should feel too! These aren’t battle wounds; these are badges of honor that I should wear with pride!” Great concept there, but let’s get realistic. I want the beach babe body. I want to not only rock those old jeans but to keep going, and rock NEW jeans. Oh and while I’m asking for things, I want to eat whatever I want too. So… now that my run is over, it’s pizza rolls and brownies. Life is about the balance, right?