Like many of us, I am an infinite work in progress.
House is clean, but my hair is greasy, clothes unwashed. Column finished, although my children resemble wolves, the house resembles a scene from “Hoarders.” Balls fall around me, so I clutch the once-shiny sphere I got right.
Closing the “birthing” chapter of my life has lit a fire for me to get organized, get motivated, and get my post-baby butt to the gym again.
Before tiny Bodie made his appearance in my uterus, I dropped 40 pounds, thanks to running, and to my running buddy Jordan Strebel (she’s tall, thin, and blond, aka motivation).
I know, I know, when women write about their weight loss, their “ah-ha” moments, readers want to vomit and possibly punch said women in the face, so I’ll do my best to keep this from being heave-worthy.
Fact of the matter is, when you are in your 20s, you should be at your peak health.
My body and mind are still young, so I need to take care so that later in life when parts start to rot, I give them their best shot. Living off kale, munching down nuts, and gnawing on raw meat is not what I’m talking about when it comes to health, either.
I recognize eating healthfully is pivotal in weight loss, but I mostly work out to maintain my diet of a slice of chocolate cake and a burger. Dear reader, I am beholden to you, so I may have no choice but to choke down those fruits and veggies if I want to make a change.
Here within the pages of Hers I’ve laid bare … my bare parts. Yes, this is the gut of a woman who went from 130 pounds to 213 — a tummy (a word that should be used only for small children) stretched out three times, a belly (better word) neglected.
After Scarlett, I hated the way I looked. Stretch marks wound around my body like a noose, skin hung where it was tight once before; now I embrace what this body has given me, what it has tolerated.
Each mark represents the life I welcomed into my arms. My body created three perfect beings. I need to show it the proper respect and take care of it. You just gagged, didn’t you? Sorry.
The scales tip at 176 pounds when my body sneaks aboard like a cat burglar, as if slow movements will change my girth. I’d like to be back to 145, where I was before I found out Bodie was nesting. My feet are hitting pavement once again. I’m set to run in the 10th-anniversary Wasatch Back Ragnar at the end of June to keep me pushing.
I expect the biggest change to come from CrossFit — a workout becoming extremely popular because of the results. Lucky I was looking for my favorite local ice cream shop when I noticed Ben Lomond CrossFit, owned by Kelly and Laurie Moore with their partners Aaron and Erica Martinez.
As of this printing, I will have been going for two weeks; if not, then I suck at this already. Thus far, I’ve been thrice, amazed at those around me lifting insane amounts of weight, working through sweat, and cheering me on with each rep I try to pull off.
Seriously, I’m loving this place. Today, I watched a petite high school student deadlift 290 pounds, her new personal record. The fact that she began lifting in December is an inspiration.
As I work toward making a change, I’m relying on my readers. In a couple of months, I will post (fingers crossed) my progress. If this belly gets a bit more gibbly after skipping out on CrossFit to score some fries, I’ll post those pictures, too.
Hers has filled its pages with stories of women changing their bodies, and their lives. I hope to change mine.
To keep me going, please log on and post your stories, your exercises and recipes. Push me forward.
Post your comments with this column at www.hersutah.com.