On Sunday, I made my first postpartum trip to the gym.

It was also my first trip to the gym in two years.
Yeah, I wish I were kidding. When I embarked on a weight loss journey two years ago after my miscarriage, my goal was to become healthy so I could work out through my pregnancy when I DID get pregnant again.

What was that sound? That was the resounding noise of me falling off the bandwagon. Two years later and you can STILL hear that one.

When I gave birth, I tipped the scales at 208 pounds. I’m 5’3″, ya’ll. I carried my pregnancy weight well, which is a blessing because I was a whale.
6 weeks postpartum, I weighed in at 194 pounds.
As if that isn’t enough to make me want to vomit in my mouth, yesterday at the gym, I weighed in at 198 pounds.

I HAVE GAINED FOUR POUNDS. Baby weight is supposed to come OFF, not go back ON. I finally had to give up the dream that I’d be one of those women whose bodies just go back to normal after giving birth. You’re out there, you know it, and the rest of us hate you for that. OK, so hate is a strong word. Maybe it’s more like “are really jealous and give you the stink eye behind your back”.

Now, in my previous years I would lament at how fat I was. How chunky. How gross. Looking back at it, I was never legitimately fat.
Now? I am legitimately fat. I am a Fat Girl. I wear a size 20 jeans, and I am 5’3″. Any way you look at it, that is Fat with a capital “F”.

And yes, yes. I know that “my body created and housed a miracle for nine months” and “I should be amazed and proud at what my body did” and blah blah blah. The fact still remains: I am Fat, my daughter is now almost 5 months old. The miracle is now on the outside and becoming more and more independent every day and now I’m left with a spare tire, stretch marks, and thighs the size of Andre the Giant.

I have a lot of work to do. Ideally, I’d like to get down to 140 but for now I will settle for 150. I was walking on the treadmill at the gym yesterday and it hit me: I need to lose at least 40 pounds. That is daunting, guys. I understand how to lose weight. I have done it before. But now… It’s actually doing it. It’s not just going to “happen”. I have to work and make it happen.

Part of me wants to say, “Screw it” and just be a Fat Girl.. But I’m so uncomfortable in my own skin. Part of me wants to wait, because I know within two years we will be wanting to get pregnant again.. And I’ll just have to lose that weight all over.

I decided to take this weight loss in small bites, so to speak. Ten pounds at a time. Don’t look at it as “I have 40+ pounds to lose”, look at it as “10 at a time.”

This is gonna suck, ya’ll.

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