Here's a fun game: Who can guess the number of inches I have added to my waist since my sophomore year of high school (that being the last year I remember measuring my waist)?
No? Not a fun game? Well then, here's the answer. Seven. SEVEN. Good grief. Why does this always happen- as soon as I write about making peace with my body, I get slapped with renewed self loathing after seeing myself in a picture, or getting on a scale, or some other form of COLD HARD FACTS. Bah.
On a more cheerful note, the reason I was torturing myself with the tape measure is that I had to send in my measurements for my pretty BRIDESMAID DRESS for the WEDDING I'm going to be in come September! Yay! AND Addy is going to be the flower girl!
But seriously, folks. I need to whip this body back into shape, and I don't think two hours of aerobics a week is going to cut it. My first plan is to stop buying all the #%$^#ing chocolate just because it is on a major sale. The calories are not seventy-five percent off, Sarah. But I think it will take more than that. My love handles are stubborn little buggers. I need dieting ideas that are both nutritionally acceptable (so no cabbage soup only diets) and okay to implement while breastfeeding. How do I get the pounds to melt away while still providing good milk for baby and also keeping up my energy for toddler chasing (my method for keeping up energy heretofore having been to alternate doses of caffeine and sugar)?