After I had my boy, I stepped on our scale and almost screamed.  I may have cursed.  I had lost only about THREE (maybe even TWO?) pounds after expelling one human, one placenta,  and gush upon gush of water and blood.  My uterus had contracted very dramatically within a few days, too.  I felt so light like I could tap dance if I had ever known how.  My husband said it was nice to be able to fully hug me again, with both his arms fully around me.

I had gained a very textbook, healthy amount of weight during my pregnancy.  Still, I had looked forward to stepping on the scale post-delivery and seeing a substantial loss immediately.  Then, almost magically, the next morning, lots more weight had dropped off, like the body needed a bit of time to process the transaction, like credit card refunds.  I am not weight-obsessed as I haven’t been a thin girl since my senior year in high school, and that was only because I was going through something.  I like food more than I crave being thinner.  I just want to fit into my pre-pregnancy clothes and feel lighter on my feet.

Micah has started to pinch.  He gave his daddy a classic tittie-twister while being bathed this past week.  He also likes to pat or grab the fatty fats on my back (where the bra strap would be) as he feeds.  Micah, I know Mama is mad soft right now but please don’t play with my fatty fats.  They are not toys and I feel very shy when you can pinch them, strum them and soon, knead them.

When I went to the gym (obviously without Micah in tow), I missed him not for motherly love reasons but because I needed him as a living, breathing explanation to those around me that I was extra soft and just EXTRA me as I had just given birth.  Yeah, I shouldn’t care what other people think especially when these strangers at my ghetto gym couldn’t care less about me but it’s my overexplaining nature.  I really want to explain to anyone who will listen, “Hey, I used to swim all the time and enjoyed me some yoga.  This is not my true self.  Did I tell you that I gave birth ten weeks ago?”  Well, maybe to grown-up Micah, I will say, “You know, mama used to be a supermodel despite being 5’2 and 1/4 but I retired when I had you.  The hours were too crazy, and all that traveling…”

I hopped on the scale at the gym after one workout and one pee.  It was one of those digital scales that scrambles its numbers before it settles on the final weight.  What?  That’s my PRE-pregnancy weight!  BOO-ya!  It’s a miracle!  It’s only been ten weeks and 2.5 trips to the gym (.5 for the time I started to walk on the treadmill when my husband called me to tell me to come back home).  Halleluyer!  Oh wait, it’s still scrambling.  It had only paused at that pre-pregnancy weight, just visiting that number for old times’ sake I guess, before it scrambled some more and spit out my current number.  Well, I deserved that.  How can I possibly lose the weight that took 39 weeks to gain, in just ten weeks?  C’mon now, I am not Heidi Klum.  And those celebs have resources galore.

Micah, you lucky that you are deemed even CUTER for YOUR double chins, sweaty arm (and wrist!) rolls, thigh rolls, and neck that needs to be flossed.  Mama wants to get fit real soon, for you and for me.  OK, probably more for me.