I'm Pleasantly Plump

I'll admit it.

Let's see here . . . after the babies were born I was sick as a dog and didn't want to eat much plus pumping my breastmilks like a maniac which allowed me to lose oodles of weight. It was quite exhilirating in fact. As time neared me going to work I used my elliptical machine semi-regularly.

It all went down the tubes when I returned to work. No more pumping for one thing, which is a calorie burning frenzy. I quit working out as much because I felt guilty for taking time away from the babies after I was gone all day to work out but I was (and still am most days) beyond exhausted from getting babies up and snuggled and on to school and then working all day and then trying to make up for lost time plus doing things I enjoy. I did not want to work out at 9:00 at night, especially when a full night of sleep is STILL (at 17 months old) not guaranteed and I had to get up in the morning and do it all again. Being at work also allowed me time to actually eat food.

I went from being under my first preggo appointment weight quickly to now, on this very day, weighing the same as I weighed when I was FOUR MONTHS PREGNANT WITH TWINS!!! That sucks.

This morning I woke up and thought "good grief, what is the heavy thing on me?" and took a look and it was just my big meaty legs. They are physically heavy and dangly and lumpy. I used to have fabulous legs and get compliments on them all the time. It was quite depressing.

Here are the reasons for my chubbiness:

1. I'm tired. I just want to relax after working all day! I want to lay on the carpet while Ever puts blankets on me and tells me "nigh nigh." I want to throw the ball with Ocean. I want to take them for a wagon ride. I want to take 8 million pictures of them doing whatever they are doing because I think everything they do is cute. I want to watch Netflix and do Pinterest. Yep. I do not want to run. I do not want to do Jillian Michaels. I do not want to use the elliptical. I only work out on the weekends. Maybe.

2. My stomach is severely deformed and scarred from pregnancy. Even if I turned anorexic it would not change the sick shit that is my gut, which isn't really motivating for me to care about doing ab work.

3. I love to eat. I also like the convenience of food that is quick. I don't always have time to pack snacks and lunch after getting myself, my children and my household ready for the day in a timely manner so I eat what I can grab while out or what is laying around at work, which is mostly carbs. I certainly don't want to cook when I get off of work at 6:00 p.m. and don't get home until 6:30 p.m. and bedtime events start in just an hour and a half. No, I do not.

4. I just make excuses and accept my laziness (see #1-3). There isn't much I could really do on the excersize front, but I could eat meal replacement bars or pre-pack my lunches for the week. I could chop up a quick salad for dinner, but instead throw in a pizza or run through the drive through. My dangler is gross and I have to accept that, but I shouldn't use it as a reason to not care about the rest of my body.

I know I could look better and I want to, I just don't really want to put any effort into it. A friend and I were talking and she said "I would kill to have my high school body back." I told her that I think that saying is so bizarre, that we would actually rather take a human life instead of just diet and excersize like we should. Her reply was that it would only take 10 seconds to kill someone and it takes a lot of time and effort to diet and excersize (that's why she is my friend by the way, because she says really funny stuff like that).

I need an attitude change, but don't know where to find it. I look at pictures of skinny people and try to tell myself I need to look like that. Isn't that the big issue in society, that women are supposed to look like people they see in the magazine? I wish I had that problem, but frankly I don't care what those skinny bitches look like.

The biggest thing that motivates me is to remind myself how much more energized I will feel if I lose some weight and eat right. I just can't find the place to start . . . . .

See-food funnel cake!

Dinosaur face

The End.

This morning I went to my third appointment regarding my stupid reproductive organs and the havoc they are wreaking often now.

The sad fact of the matter is that if I take birth control it will probably help a ton. I may have endometriosis and the only real way to tell is to have a minor, outpatient surgery. The doctor said it would be better to wait and do the surgery before I really wanted to try for another baby.

Sigh.

I really don't want to be on birth control. After all the time it took to get pregnant I don't want to close the door on the small, tiny little chance that I could just get knocked up by accident someday. We did really want three kids after all. I've been reading that the biggest regret women have later is that they didn't talk their husband into having that 2nd or 3rd or 10th baby that they really wanted. The sad part is that I wouldn't have to really talk my husband into it, he would love it! But I am infertile.

Infertility is defined as not achieving pregnancy after twelve months of well planned intercourse. I have birth control free for twelve months now. In all honesty, our sex has been either never planned or actually non-existent (I'm exhausted people, especially in the 4 months-10 months period). But that twelve month mark still bugs me so badly. I'm still infertile. I will not be that person who is fertile after IVF. I'm re-infertile. Another twelve months have passed.

There was a mirror in the room I was in and I caught a glimpse of myself. What I saw was Debbie Desperate. I just want to be normal with a normal chance of procreating like any normal, average individual. Here I am, nearly 5 years and 12 fertility treatments later, still trying to find what no one has found: a good reason for my infertility. Yes, I was diagnosed with PCOS but I ovulated with Clomid, injectibles and then on my own with Metformin and a good diet. Not a single one of my hormones are outside of normal range, even ones that should be from PCOS. Nothing is wrong with hubby. I am 27, 23 at the time of my first fertility appointment. It doesn't make sense and STILL I am trying to make sense of it.

Maybe this feels so bad all over again because I didn't grieve this situation for real. When I ran out of IUI's and came out of my haze we tried adopting. That didn't seem like it would work so we did IVF and I had a baby so I never shut the door on having babies again.

I could just do the surgery and then try on our own a few months, but I don't want to. I want it to be a non-part of our life. If it happens, it happens, if not, it doesn't. As long as I"m off birth control I can hold on to that little bit of hope and have no regrets. Birth control feels like I am admitting defeat and closing the door and I don't want to.

But I feel like a toddler who isn't getting their way. I"m not willing to do anything drastic about it (like "timed intercourse" or fertility treatments), but I'm also not willing to give up. Desperation. It's a yucky feeling. And truly, I only think about this when I'm thinking about it, if that makes sense. It doesn't consume me all the time like the old infertility did. The re-infertility makes me want to go to the doctor and find the answers and fix it but then I get lazy and just want to enjoy my two precious, hilarious, smart and exceptionally attractive children (ahem) and my life.

I got in the car and had a good cry. I think I will just get on birth control. That way I will close the door myself and it won't be lingering in the back of my mind. The end. That's it. I'm not going on this fool's errand anymore. I'm not going to miss work or be sick or unable to sleep at night for reproductive issues that will be helped by birth control or lupron (can't get preggo on that either and it makes a bitch crazy).

In theory. Wish me luck picking up my birth control tonight and not acting like a pansy.

Source: lesleyvmartinez.tumblr.com via Ashley on Pinterest

Seriously Thursday

Seriously . . . once your kid turns one stop counting their age by weeks. I don't want to hear that your kid is 77 weeks old. I'm bad at math. Let's keep it simple - either 18 months or a year and half. Thanks.

Seriously . . . I would love to watch some of this new fall TV but unfortunately I have two little TV nazi's in the house. As soon as they see the TV they start yelling "gabba! gabba!" and there is NO acceptance of anything else.

Seriously . . . what is with music these days? I heard the start to one song that went "am I better off dead?" and then the song about if I die young, my thoughts are worth so much more or whatever. What the hell? I like music to get me from one place to the next, I am so not interested in your suicidal thoughts. That's not entertaining. And really, I'm so over Lady Gaga. All her songs sound the same and her outfits are dumb.

Seriously . . . . my kids could not get any cuter. Since they were born we have been singing a lot. I have worked with young kiddos for awhile so I know lots of songs but when we run out I just sing about anything I see; spaghetti noodles, blue skies, cars, meth addicts, etc. Now Ocean and Ever love to sing and it is truly the cutest thing in the whole wide world! LOVE!

Seriously . . . whoever invented Pinterest clearly wants me to be fat, never work or pay attention to my husband because it's all I want to do!

The family that goes hot tubbin' together, stays together!

Twin Troubles

Having twins invites lots of very random and bizarre questions. This has never really bothered me that much, I know lots of twin moms get offended, I just don't. People are curious. So? I'm really, severely nosey so I know exactly where these people are coming from.

When people ask how we got them, no, it's not their business, but I get why people are compelled to ask. When you're walking around with twins you may as well stamp a sign on your forehead that says "I'm probably infertile! Ask me about it" The asking isn't the problem, it just sometimes hurts to be reminded of that so I suck it up.

Now we are faced with new issues.

The daycare facility that they attend is very excited to have twins in the building. All the little kids talk about it and it is very cute. This morning we walked in and I heard two little girls discussing which twin they liked more and which one was cuter.They are just kids and I know I can't protect them from everything, but I wish they would not ever hear things like that! Ocean and Ever are getting smarter and smarter and I know the day will come sooner than I think they they will be able to pick up on those things.

Beyond the kids, adults do it too in a different way. I have had teachers tell me several times how smart or advanced Ever is. In that immediate moment, I soak it all up. Every mama wants to know those things. Then I look down at Ocean staring up at me with those big beautiful brown eyes and wonder what he will think of this. One day will he compare himself and think that he is dumb or not good enough just because he is not the same as Ever? Vice versa, people do this to Ocean with his good looks. They will talk about him and how handsome he is and not say a word about Ever while she is standing right there.

This isn't due to vanity. I don't need people to comment on my kids all the time. This is about them feeling good about themselves and not comparing. Since they were born I've tried to remember they are twins, but they are also two individuals. People thought I was CRAZY to not get them on the same feeding schedule but I looked at my two babies and they are not the same. Ever is smaller than Ocean and I could not bring myself to overfeed her or underfeed him for my convenience (no offense if you did that). I just wanted them to function the way they are supposed to function as individuals (they mostly always wanted to eat around the same time anyway).

Now I'm in a catch 22. If they each have different talents that people recognize I want them to feel proud and special for what they can do. But at the same time, I never want one to have their feelings hurt trying to compare themselves to the other.

Will people stop doing that right in front of their faces? What is a mama to do?

Playing at the park!

5 Days as a Vegan

Hubby and I recently watched two documentaries (with Cliff's Notes in case you don't want to click the links):

1. Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead - overweight, sick man juices for 60 days and is extremely healthy and cures his autoimmune disease

2. Forks Over Knives - two doctors do extensive research and find out that plant based diets free of any animal product (meat, dairy, eggs) or processed foods can either greatly reduce or completely eliminate a variety of serious medical conditions including cancer and diabetes

We found both of these documentaries very interesting. I was particularly interested because PCOS may or may not be related to crappy eating habits.

I don't want anyone to do outright mean things to animals and I think hunting is kind of gross unless people are really and truly using all parts of the animal, but I do believe that's it's okay for us to eat animals. We are mammals and there are lots of mammals who have a diet that consists almost entirely of meat. BUT - these documentaries did present a lot of compelling facts to me.

So . . . I decided to give it a whirl. I didn't have meat, cheese or anything with eggs in it for 5 days.

It was straight up brutal. By the third day hubby came home and I said "I AM GOING TO TACO BELL RIGHT NOW!" I just felt like I was really missing something and my stomach just didn't feel right. I don't know if this is because I really missed meat and dairy out of habit or I actually need meat and dairy in my diet. I feel like I have been eating WAY too many carbs and I had that feeling like I was starving for something substantial to eat.

On the other hand, I ate a ton more veggies, fruits and whole foods than usual. After two days, my headaches went away that I've been having. Something that changed almost immediately was something that is kind of nasty to share on the interwebs, but I will. My poop. I have ass issues that are more normal for a 90 year old and they went away in ONE day. One day only. I also felt a lot less bloated. This should turn the lightbulb on that I am lactose intolerant. Duh. I also was consuming a very minimal amount of salt.

I did not go to Taco Bell on that third day. I held out. On the 6th day I broke my veganism. I ate a salad with chopped up chicken on top. Damn, that chicken was delicious. Very delicious. Later that night I ate chicken again and it was pure heaven. For sides with my chicken I had vegetables and a salad, which I can assure you I would normally never choose (french fries, boo yah).

I decided that I am not cut out to be a vegan for two main reasons:

1. I loathe vegetables. I think they are absolutely disgusting and I hate them. Especially cooked ones. It would be hard and actually pretty sad in my opinion to live my whole life eating the thing I like the least.

2. I love meat baby. Meat meat meat. Yummy.

On the 7th day, I totally effed off in the morning. I had a caramel mocha (dairy present) and an egg mcmuffin (dairy, meat and egg present). A strange thing happened. A few hours later I felt yucky and gross and then ate some processed food and felt yuckier. By lunch time, I chose an avocado and tomato sandwhich instead of the roast beef sandwich I wanted so that I could feel better. I also ate french onion soup for dinner and drank a mother load of water.

I decided that I will continue with a few things:

1. No dairy. Dairy makes me feel like crap (emphasis on the crap, literally). My body is happier without it.

2. I am going to eat a lot more vegetables and fresh fruits. I really did feel good in such a short time doing that so I want to keep it up.

3. I am going to try to keep breakfast and lunch meatless. Sometimes not lunch though.

4. I'm going to keep eating a lot of whole, fresh foods so I can keep that clean, non-bloated feeling.

So there you have it. Now if I just find time to exercise I will be little Suzy Healthnut . . . . .