I've always had chunky thighs . . . and calves. I've got huge leg muscles that would be the envy of any linebacker. Those ham hocks also have a generous layer of fat over them, though. My legs are an unfortunate combination of my dad's and my mom's legs. In fact, my mom has sort of apologized to me about the heavy legs, once upon a time. But like she had control of how the chromosomes lined up . . . .
Anyway, those tree trunks up there could also propel me about three and a half to four feet into the air in dance class. Somewhere in my parents' house is a picture of that too, and that was pretty cool. Seriously big muscles give seriously big power.
I think The Boy may have my thighs and calves too. (Then again, my legs, sadly, sort of look like babies' legs when I'm not in shape . . . like now. Sigh.) Hubby says The Boy's legs will be great for tennis when he's older. I sure hope so.
So because of the legs, I've always felt like I had a weight problem. Even if I otherwise look good and am a healthy weight, there's always the problem of my mega-thighs lurking around down there.
In adulthood, I also met the problem of physical idleness. See that tutu and those toe shoes up there? Those, and the related tap shoes and jazz oxfords, were chiefly how I got my exercise until I was about 20 years old.
Here's a secret for all of you 14-year-old aspiring prima ballerina's out there: you're probably not going to be leading the New York City Ballet in six to eight years. In six to eight years, you're probably going to be in college, or possibly grad school, never to put your toe shoes on again, except out of occasional nostalgia. So find a sport you can play all your life to keep yourself fit . . . like tennis, for instance. Don't get me wrong: don't quit dancing. But only for the very few dancers does it last forever. You need a physical fitness back-up.
But I didn't do that. I didn't have a physical fitness back-up. So I didn't enter adulthood with a lifelong recreational sport (like tennis). I'd like to learn tennis even now, and I think that once The Boy is old enough to take lessons, I will do it too. He and I can practice together. And when he inevitably becomes better than me, he can start playing with his dad, who is the real tennis player in the family.
My weight has fluctuated up and down and up and up and up and down and down throughout most of my adult life. I don't really want to talk about the emotional aspects of eating. Just that I do eat in response to emotional upset: If I get stressed or sad or anxious or even tired, the thing that comforts me is something salty and carby or something sugary and carby. It goes straight to my thighs.
When I got married, I was about 10ish pounds heavier than my high school weight and I looked pretty darned good:
(Notice that you can't see my thighs in that outfit.)
Anyway, the way I got in better shape was pretty simple: I took up the easiest sport I could think of. Running. And I did a lot of that, a lot of riding on the exercise bike we've got upstairs, and I followed, more or less regularly, the Weight Watchers program. I did a little yoga too. Wanting to look good for my husband was a great inspiration. I mean, we began dating when I was a bit chubby, but I wanted him to have a fitter, healthier, more attractive me. It took that inspiration and it took steely-eyed discipline to say "no" to chocolate cake and pizza. It was hard. (And sometimes, I didn't say, "no.")
Then came infertility and the drugs that I had to take (and the situational depression that went with the infertility). Plus 15 pounds. Then there was the pregnancy itself. Plus 45 more pounds!
As a result of all of this up and down and up and down with my weight, I've got clothes in my closet ranging from size 6 to size 14 (and one aspirational size 4 that I've never really fit into). Now, I'm still about 30 pounds above where I was when we got married. I had sort of hoped that the weight would go away on its own with breastfeeding, but the magical weight-loss of breastfeeding eluded me.
Still, gosh-oh-golly, I'd like to be back to wedding weight by The Boy's first birthday.
So, back to the Weight Watchers plan I go . . . and bring on the running shoes . . . and the jog stroller! Fingers crossed that I'll be back into my 6s (or at least the 8s) by March! Wish me luck!
