I’m not pleased to learn that I’ve apparently gained ten pounds in the past year. Facebook reminded me of an update exactly one year ago, when I proudly crowed about being two pounds from my goal weight, which has always been about 120, and now I know I’m over 130, which on a short chick like me really shows. Ugh.
Of course a year ago we walked every day. Now we do more together, Freya and I, but it’s not as focused on my exercise as it is on hers. And I haven’t been following a healthy eating plan as I’d hoped to in the spring. I’m still not eating fast food or junk, but I’m also still consuming too many empty carbs. Alas.
And I feel quite defeated about this. It seems like even knowing what I need to do is not nearly enough, because I can’t follow through. There isn’t time to run. I can’t manage a good meal plan longer than a week or two. Brian wants donuts and pizza. I feel utterly helpless.
I feel ya. I weight the same as I did full-term. Knowing that I was in AWESOME shape….and running!…right when I got pregnant is really depressing. I feel like I can’t ever get back there although I know I must.
Good luck! We will do it eventually!
It’s just hard to find the time, and if I have the time, then I don’t have the energy/motivation. I think what’s worst for me isn’t the actual number on the scale or tightness in my clothes, it’s just the feeling that for some reason I have no control over it somehow (even though I know I totally do), and that I’m just going to get bigger and there’s “nothing I can do” (I know that’s false, too). But that feeling really eats away at my brain, man! Argh!
Meanwhile Brian is running regularly and training for a half-marathon and I’m feeling really jealous of him, while also feeling really proud of him!