Weight Watcher

On Monday I had my second to last doctor’s appointment before my due date. As usual, the appointment began with the command to pee in a cup whereupon I proceeded to give one of my worst performances to date (I was running late and didn’t have enough time to drink the gallon of water it would take to satisfy those cut-throats). Then came the moment that I have come to dread: my weekly weigh-in. Now, I knew that this wasn’t going to be pretty… my eating habits had taken a turn for the worse ever since I realized that the “I’m eating for two” excuse was about to become null and void. So it was with much trepidation that I stepped onto the scale (FYI: I took off my shoes beforehand and even held my breath just in case I inhaled something weighty, you know, like a dust particle). It wasn’t a digital scale, it was one of those old-school ones where you’re forced to wait in agony while the nurse adjusts it this way and then that, moving to the right every time it becomes apparent that you’re heavier than she had approximated. After 10 hours or so of this torture (ok, maybe it was more like 10 seconds) she settled on my number for the day. Are you ready for this? 160 lbs a.k.a one hundred and sixty pounds a.k.a 73 kg a.k.a seventy three kilograms. All those pounds, mind you, are rested on a very short frame.

AND THEN, to be sure that I was fully aware of my condition, she decided that it would be best to make a formal announcement because you know, even though I was standing right there looking at the scale, she reckoned that it was always best to be crystal clear about these things. “So! You are at 160 lbs”. I gasped… no doubt as a result of both shock and oxygen deprivation (I had been holding my breath, remember?). I think my husband gasped too but I can’t be sure because at this point the room was spinning and my life was flashing before my eyes.

Now, this shouldn’t be worrisome because after all, I am carrying another human being inside of me AND since I plan to breastfeed, I should lose lots of weight, right? WRONG! You people don’t know my body! It is the most uncooperative body that ever existed and it LOVES to hang onto excess. Maybe the breastfeeding thing works for some people but I am 99.9% positive that it will NOT work for me. So unless I give birth to a 30 lb child (hope springs eternal!) I fear that I will never get rid of this pregnancy weight.

Where does that leave me? Well. I’m certainly not going to accept this fate. SO! I’m working on a plan. It’s more of a healthy lifestyle plan than a weight loss plan because I intend to stick with the plan for the rest of my life. I will track my weight loss for a while because I don’t know how else I’d know if any physical changes are happening. When will all this start? About 8 weeks post-delivery which conveniently allows me to enjoy my first weeks of motherhood, thanksgiving and Christmas. 

Look out for the debut of this plan/program/thing next year complete with program details, progress updates (maybe even photos *gasp*), weigh-ins, etc. This might actually be fun and I’m not one to keep all the joy to myself so who wants to get on the program with me?! *crickets*


Meditation – Take 1

So on Friday I decided to try out my meditation CD for the very first time. Thanks to Amazon’s spiteful policy of giving a month long window for possible delivery, I had spent a week stalking the mailman. Needless to say, we were both relieved when it finally arrived on Thursday. The CD came with a tiny book which I was able to read in 45 minutes flat WHILE watching an episode of Cops (for those of you who are curious this particular episode was titled ‘Bad Girls 3’ which, among other things, featured one particular bad girl who had the brilliant idea to hide UNDER HER CAR from the cop who had just pulled her over – yes, I know – >reality TV heaven). 

Anyway, I busted out the CD first thing on Friday morning. Ok, the thing about my meditative experience is that I have no idea if I was doing it right because I have no idea what a successful meditation is supposed to feel like. For one thing, I kept on being distracted by the weird noises that my toilet was making – I think my toilet is possessed; one day last week it just started making these strange sloshing noises at random intervals throughout the day. Then I scared myself by wondering if there was something swimming INSIDE my toilet. And who can meditate with a toilet that’s possessed by a swimming ghost?! But the pleasant sounding lady on the CD kept on reassuring me that it was ok for thoughts to come into my head and telling me to just imagine them floating away into the sunset. Easy for you to say lady, you’re not the one trapped in an apartment with a malevolent toilet ghost.

For the pleasant lady’s sake, I tried my best to imagine my toilet and its ghoulish occupant floating away and focused on what she was telling me about the love, light and general awesomeness that was inside of me. For a few moments I actually felt like I was totally calm and thought-less, but those moments were cut short by my unborn child who has recently decided to test the ability of my ribs to withstand her vigorous kicks. (This kid is SO grounded when she comes out…) 

All in all though, I managed to complete the entire 15 minute session. I can’t say that I felt radically transformed afterwards but I will say that I felt a wee bit calmer.  Pleasant Lady says that meditation is a ‘discipline’ that takes time and practice. I believe her and so I will commit to meditating 5 days a week.

Eat, Pray, Love, (Clean)

In my previous post I declared that from today henceforth I would begin to live out my joblessness a.k.a housewife life in a healthier and happier manner. As contradictory as it may seem, the couch potato life that I have been living is not only exhausting but it’s not that enjoyable either. It’s one thing to lounge on the couch after several days of hard work but it’s quite another to be confined to a couch (for lack of anything better to do) day after day and week after week.

So today marked the dawn of a new era! Up I got at the crack of dawn (well, around 8 ish) to begin my week. I busied myself with putting away the laundry (never mind that these were clothes that had been sitting out for two weeks and that it was my husband who had laundered AND folded said laundry. I married a saint. It makes me feel even more useless). And I also bestowed upon the apartment a thorough cleaning. So thorough was this cleaning that I even dusted the furniture before I wiped it down. DUSTED. I associate dusting very much with housewives because they always seem to be doing it on TV. The cloth that I was using, however, was not very effective and I ended up knocking stuff all over. I have resolved to cease all further dusting until I get proper equipment in the form of a duster (or is it called a dust mop? Surely, dust mop just seems contradictory…either it dusts or it mops. We just call a mop, a mop, not a wipe mop. Until I investigate further into this matter I shall call it a duster). Anyway, I cleaned vigorously for a full 45 minutes (feel free to applaud at this point) and was literally panting by the time I was done. The apartment was gleaming but I was tired to the point of being rendered immobile – I collapsed on the couch where I remained for the next hour.

As I lay on the couch in a near comatose state, I began to think about what other specific changes I would make to my life to make it happier and healthier (Yes, yes, I will continue to add more household tasks and domestic projects to my daily routine but I mean BESIDES that. After all, I may be a housewife but I am more than just a sum of my chores!). Then I started thinking that this question would be more easily answered if I broke it up into how I could change different dimensions of my life, as in, mind, body and soul. This is what I came up with:

Mind – I will reignite my voracious appetite for reading. Why not take advantage of this free time to get back to something that I love doing? In particular, I want to explore African literature so it’s a good thing that I found this website to point me in the right direction.  I have also found that writing this blog has given me a creative outlet that should assist in the effort to prevent the atrophying of my brain cells (thanks to Real Housewives marathons, though, I fear that much of the damage may already have been done).

Body – My love-hate affair with the gym will have to be rekindled. I really HATE going to the gym. I mean REALLY. People who love working out annoy me to no end and should all be shot at sunrise. Anyway, I will strive to work out 5 days a week. And that’s enough on the subject. As, I smugly mentioned before, I can (at least) cook a decent, well-balanced meal, and will continue to do so until further notice.

Soul – Aaah, what will I do for my SOUL? I must admit that I am quite shy about giving you my thoughts on this one but here goes: At the risk of sounding totally New Age, I want to learn how to meditate (those of you who know me personally can stop laughing now. Seriously. And no, this is not just because I read Eat, Pray, Love). Haven’t you ever just felt the need to be still? To stop the constant, random chitter-chatter in your brain and just be silent? Well, I have. I’ll do some research into some meditation for dummies CDs and let you know how it goes.

(Back to my day…)

After an hour spent incapacitated on the couch I gathered myself with renewed determination and headed straight for the gym. How proud I was of myself as I walked on that treadmill (my pace was far from brisk but give me a break, I’m pregnant!). Afterwards, I ran some errands (wow, doesn’t that just sound so domestic?) before returning home to have lunch, read my Agatha Christie mystery (the library does not have the book I ordered yet) and blog.

But as I sit here at 3:30 in the afternoon, I am so damn sleepy. Perhaps it’s the early morning I had or maybe all of my hard labor. Either way, I’m pooped. Do housewives nap? Not even the ones in Spain? Well, this one does and will.

PS – Seriously people, what is the name of that dusting thing? Is it really called a dust mop?

PPS – If you have any book suggestions, please hurl them my way.