Before I got pregnant, I lost almost 20 pounds for my one year anniversary trip to Jamaica.  It was the best shape I had been in since the first grade. I was able to fit into size 4 white denim shorts. WHITE DENIM SHORTS.  I’m not ashamed to admit that I was feeling super hot. Then a few months after my anniversary when we decided we wanted to have a baby, Eric basically sneezed on me and I got pregnant.  Neither one of us expected it to happen as quickly as it did, and the beginning of what I like to call the deterioration of Sam’s babe body began. For 9 months I tried to eat healthy as best I could AND I even exercised almost 4 days a week every week until Charlotte arrived, but I still managed to gain almost 50 pounds.  FIFTY POUNDS. I can’t imagine what I would have looked like if I never worked out or ate like complete shit. I used to stress about it in the beginning, but by month 7, 8, and 9 I really just let nature take its course. The weight would come off eventually, right?

6 weeks postpartum and I have lost 30 of those pounds. I haven’t exercised or started Weight Watchers yet, so I can attribute that hefty loss to the baby, the placenta (which I did not eat or turn into vitamins, by the way), the ridiculous amount of fluid inside my pregnant body AND nursing. Breast feeding works WONDERS.  Charlotte can attach herself to my boobs forever if it means I will keep losing weight.  Because of nursing, my stomach went down dramatically fast, so now all I am left with is a ring of skin that I like to call my doughy kangaroo pouch.  I can actually grab it and knead it like dough. I AM SO SORRY for that visual. It’s disgusting to me, but I think Charlotte enjoys nuzzling her body into my doughy midsection. She needs to learn to enjoy something else though because I am soooo over it.  Now that 6 weeks have gone by, my milk supply is beautifully established (file that under things I’d never thought I’d say. I laughed out loud when I typed it.) and I feel almost as normal as I can on 5 hours of sleep a night, I think I’m about ready to start exercising again. And starting Weight Watchers, which I honestly think is the greatest weight loss program out there. Throw in the fact that I can no longer eat cheese and I’m ready to tackle these last 20 lbs and get back to myself.  Even though I think ALL women who give birth are amazing warriors and should embrace their bodies at every stage, no matter what size, (I mean, we did just grow a HUMAN BEING), I just think I will start to really feel like me again once I am cursing Jillian Michaels out in my living room. I feel like taking out those white denim shorts and hanging them on my fridge so I have constant motivation.  Jillian Michaels is ready and waiting for me. LET’S DO THIS!

…Too bad all I want to do is eat an entire tray of brownies and I get winded walking to my car.

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