Signs, Signs, Everywhere there's signs...

I find it increasingly difficult to know what to say these days. I feel any creativity I had was sapped when I got pregnant. Perhaps my uterus ate it. It ate everything else. Why not that, too?

Seriously. I don't think I could have gotten fatter with my pregnancy if I tried. I guess I DID try. Eating is one thing I'm really, really good at. I feel like I should make a list of the OTHER things I'm really good at. Or whatever. In the meantime, I'll just go ahead and work on getting rid of my baby weight.

The thing is, I'm actually quite good at losing weight. I have lost more weight than I currently weigh. Which, if you think about it, sounds really, really impressive. It would be even more impressive if I shared how much I weigh. I won't. So move on.

The problem isn't losing weight. The problem is that I've lost it, gained it, lost it, gained it, lost it, gained it....I don't do so well with the losing and not gaining. It's almost as though the weight loss must be accompanied by the weight gain. Otherwise the cycle is not complete.

Lately, however, there have been a few (few=3, right. Ok, there have been more than a few...) signs that it's time to start, but not complete, the cycle.

Sign number 1: my 10% weight loss key chain from Weight Watchers broke. For those of you who don't know, Weight Watchers gives you a key chain when you have lost the first 10% of your body weight. In all fairness, I should have a full gross of these key chains, rather than the one I have. Or had. Whatever. Anyway. The one I had, broke. And not only did it break, it broke as I attempted to avoid making multiple trips to my car by opening the door to my house while carrying my son, the biggest diaper bag known to man (hey, Mr. Spit Up King requires several outfit changes a day. And yes, it's the spit up that makes new outfits mandatory. It's not because he has so many adorable outfits. Not only because he has so many adorable outfits.), a large dunkin donuts ice coffee, AND dinner. Dinner, as usual, was something that came in a paper bag and was handed to me through the car window. Perhaps you can see the problem(s) here.

Signs number 2 and 3: AJ (also referred to as Bubba, the Bubs, or the little boy) and I recently
took a plane ride. If you know me at all, you know that flying is the absolute worst experience in my life. I liked labor more than I like flying. (That's really not a fair comparison...I actually did like labor. Not in a creepy orgasm kind of a way. More like a "yay I get to meet my son and stop being terrified constantly" kind of way. Also, in the "whoo hoo epidurals rock!" kind of way.) Despite my fear, my biggest concern while planning the trip was, "Will the Bubs be able to sit on my lap in the tiny airplane seat?" (Answer: yes).

Once that fear subsided, my normal fear of flying was back in full force. And I'm not only fearful, I'm crazy. So I play stupid games with the universe. Like, "If the HG texts me before we get on the plane, everything will be fine." or "If there is another baby on the plane, everything will be fine." or "If AJ cries after we're seated, it's a sign I should get off the plane." It's interesting to note that the HG did NOT text me. There was NOT another baby on the plane. And AJ screamed bloody murder till we pulled away from the gate. And I lived to tell about it. Which brings me to sign number three: in addition to looking for "signs" (which frankly, never turn out right), I also pray nonstop on the flight. The prayer always starts off as something terribly selfish (Please, Lord, don't let me die before I: get married, have kids, buy a house, fill in random goal here....) that I try to turn around into something for someone else (Dear Lord, please don't let the plane crash because my niece would be devastated, the HG's grandmother wont' get to meet AJ, the HG would never recover....) I do that because it seems less self serving and thus somehow more worthy of being answered. (I've mentioned I'm crazy, yes? Just checking.) On this flight my prayers were something like this: "Dear Lord, please don't let me die fat. Please don't let my last meal have been cold hash browns and an egg mcmuffin. Please don't let the last memory Scott has is me fat." Ok, see you might have been able to dispute the first two signs as evidence I need to lose weight, but it's really hard to argue with this third one.

There were more, I just can't remember them. But you get my point. It's clear that it's time for me to get off my fatass and do something about my weight. I'm not happy. And it's not healthy for my little boy to see, either. Yes, he might only be 4 months old, but how long do I let that be my excuse? Do I wait until he's a year old? Two years? Three? Do I use the baby weight as an excuse forever? I'm going to screw my kid up enough, I don't need to add the guilt of being the reason his mom is fat to the mix. Also, if I plan to screw him up right, I have to be around for a long time...which means I have to get healthy! (Let's ignore for the moment that my doctor says I'm the healthiest fat person she knows. I have the health of a 120 pound woman. I just don't have her jeans. I'd like her jeans.)

Ok, so the next question is, what do I do to find motivation? I want to BE skinny. I don't want to GET skinny. I suppose confronting the truth about why I'm fat would be a good place to start.

Truths:
I'm fat because I eat too much
I'm fat because I don't want to exercise
I'm fat because I choose to eat crap
I'm fat because I don't do anything about it
I'm NOT fat because I had a baby
I'm NOT fat because I have a slow metabolism (Which I do, but that's a poor excuse. Very poor.)
I'm NOT fat because I have a hormonal imbalance (also true, but once you know about it, you lose the right to use it as an excuse)
I'm NOT fat because I have to much extra skin (this is quite true, but it's not like it's the only thing I have to lose...)

Ok. Well, I got that out of the way.

Does this mean that now that I'm not in denial, I will magically wake up thin? Probably not. But at least it's a step in the right direction.

Now I have to go finish my ice cream before it melts.