I Walk the Line

I love to come here and tell you of my successes.

Like the time I ate an entire column of Oreo-wanna-be’s in one sitting.  Or when I bit into a piece of Easter chocolate only to discover it was in actuality, a rock.  Or when I dug through the trash to retrieve two cookies, thrown away the day prior.

Or when I slithered into my one piece bathing suit, and took on the persona of a stuffed sausage.

Giving sausages everywhere a bad name.

Yes, proud moments.

Last December I boldly stated that I was hopping back on the South Beach Diet bandwagon to shed those unwanted pregnancy pounds (last pregnancy was nearly 4 years ago, but who’s counting).  And a bunch of y’all got on with me in an effort to make this year about getting fit and feeling great.

So, here it is the middle of February and I wanted to let you all know how it was going.

I fell flat on my face.

I completely underestimated the fact that the last time I tried (and succeeded) with South Beach I only had 2 kids, and I wasn’t attempting to homeschool anyone.

In other words, I was not prepared.

I’ve completely regrouped and I’m trying something a little simpler.  It involves eating 6 times a day (for metabolism), combining a protein and healthy carb at every meal, portion control, and working out SIX times a week.  I even took the dreaded “before” picture.  That was sobering.

I won’t go into any more detail than that.  When I see the results, I’ll spill my guts.  What’s left of ‘em.

What this has meant, is that on alternate days, I will be reacquainting myself with my treadmill.

The same treadmill that was buried in the garage.  Underneath 4 bicycles, one big wheel trike, a crib (which I then used as a barricade to keep small children away from said treadmill), a used wedding dress (worn once), and a bag of old decrepit toys that I intend to throw away (don’t tell Cailey).

The children followed me out to the garage to see what was up.  Jensen eyed the treadmill when it was finally unearthed.  “Whassthat mama?”

I tried to explain it to him.  “Um, mommy walks on it.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to exercise?”

“Why?”

Because I packed on 50 pounds with you, and you children KIND OF STRESS ME OUT and exercise is really good for stress SO I’M TOLD and I just want to have 20 minutes to myself to walk on this darn thing while listening to my HAPPY MUSIC on my iPod without the fear of you people setting the house ablaze!!!!!

Okay.  I just thought all of that.  What I actually said was more along the lines of, “Because it will make mommy happy.”

And with that, I flipped the switch, shoved my iPod earbuds into place, and blasted off.

“Mommy, what’s all that squeaking?”

I look down at the treadmill to a label at the base which reads “The quiet treadmill.”  After so many years of nonuse, it could use a little oil I reckon.  Couldn’t we all.

I turned the music up louder and walked faster.

With three pairs of eyes glued to me.  Like they’ve never seen me walk before.

It was only slightly unnerving.

Eventually they lost interest and played on the floor of the garage, just to be near me.

I figured I was safe to have my happy tunes blasting my eardrums because if there were a ear splitting scream from my children I’m certain I’d hear it because of my heightened mommy sixth sense, and I knew that if blood were spurting from anyone, I could catch it in my peripheral vision.

I finished my 20 minutes, and put in another 10 just for penance for all those downed Oreos from so long ago.

I have an awfully long road ahead of me.  One step at a time.  And if I fall on my face, I’ll just get back up, dust the crumbs off my shirt, and forge ahead.