post kid FAT

I never thought twice about the two complete breakfasts I enjoyed every morning before 9am.  Having a slice of pizza and the contents of the breadbasket at Terroni wasn’t a strange thing for me during those nine months.  I relished my whole-wheat bagels with regular cream cheese.  I was fairly addicted to Iced Caps from Tim Horton’s.  A cookie from Whole Foods never really hurt anyone.  Same goes for the delicious biscotti from Starbucks.  Bread was my best friend.  I adored butter.   And I was never been happier.

Sure there’s a certain expectation that when you’re pregnant you’ll gain a sizeable amount of weight.  I never seemed to let it bother me (all 75 pounds of it).  Everywhere I went, people commented on how fantastic I looked.  I wore the same skintight black dress to every occasion and reveled in the flattery and accolade.  People said my big belly was gorgeous.  Strangers wanted to touch me on the streets.  I had been given the license to eat and the world was LOVING me for it.

So, baby girl was born on Dec 30^th, and now 6 months later I have a good 25-30 pounds to lose.  After a bit of self-loathing and destruction I actually think I’m on my way back to sexy again.  After all, I can fit in a Diane Von Furstenberg medium, and the compliments are starting to flow again.

I know I’m not waif skinny yet (nor am I sure I ever want to be so little again) but I’m comfortable and healthy right now.  I’ve hired the most wonderful trainer, Kate, who is my friend, support, advocate and relationship counselor.  She pushes me at 6:30am to run, lift and crunch as hard as possible.  My baby and I pound the pavement daily, usually about 17,000 steps a day (I bought a pedometer).

So while I think things are going just peachy, I have one person who is not quite as impressed.  He’ll find a Twix wrapper in my diaper bag and look at me with disgust.  A ½ eaten cupcake found in my bag was near grounds for divorce.  There’s nothing better than your husband walking into the bathroom where you’re finally relaxing in the warm tub only to say, “lay off the peanut butter and honey sandwiches, I thought you were on a diet”.  Or to receive a text message at 7:30am after you just got back from a great run that says, you’re not really a fat person, just start your diet.  Or I love you I just think you lack self-control.  Ughh…is he kidding??

Well, a great trip to NYC always cures things for me.  His good friend tells me I should UP the training sessions and see a nutritionist. Spend his cash to shut his mouth?  I think I’ll head south.  See a few friends who still think I’m FAB, cupcakes and all…At least they can appreciate that it took me nearly 10 months to grow my gorgeous daughter and it might just take that long to lose the penthouse I so lovingly built for her.