Bikini Boot Camp
Hold the mayo. Skip the soda. Pass on the parfait. Bikini Boot Camp has begun! I am going to Hawaii in six weeks. I have a mere month and a half to get into semi-decent shape before I brave the beach. This transformation is a daunting task. Since giving birth to my second child, my body has taken the shape and consistency of a jellyfish. The skin on my stomach is flaccid and flabby, sagging as though it once held a mammoth bowling ball instead of an eight-pound baby. An attempt to wear pre-pregnancy jeans creates a variety of visual effects over the top of my pants. From the “spare tire”—a fifteen-pound moray eel inner tube, trapped inside trying to escape to fifteen pounds of grandma’s homemade yeasty bread dough—rising to five times its original size above my denim waistband. It is like pound after pound of dimpled tapioca pudding preserved just under my skin, as if I am a human Tupperware container. Not pretty.
Thus far, I have been able to rationalize my unfit body: I just had a baby and getting back in shape takes time. I can’t start a work-out program now, I think I feel a cold coming on…sniff, sniff. I can’t put any additional strain on my body now, I’d get sick for sure and I have two kids to keep up with. I HAVE to eat that bowl of ice cream; I am breastfeeding and need the calcium. You name it, I can justify it. But no longer; I vow to lose the weight.
Why is it so hard to commit to taking care of ourselves? We cook healthy dinners for our families, wait hand and foot on our clan, even encourage our friends to work-out and get fit. Yet we, ok…I, cannot seem to stay motivated. Each morning I resolve to get in better shape, then the daily shuffle begins and my workout plans are the first to be cut.
My take, both unsolicited and unprofessional, is this: Women learn to put others first by example. Yes, I am assigning blame. Growing up, my mom (and grandmother) would care take everyone’s needs first. I remember my mom routinely going to work, cooking meals, and cleaning the house, but not exercising on a regular basis.
Well, the cycle stops here. I want my daughters to be athletic and fit, to live a healthy lifestyle that promote wellness. I do not want them to be household martyrs. If I have learned anything in my short years of marriage and momhood, it’s this: If mom ain’t happy, nobody’s happy. I am responsible for myself. When I work out, I feel better, have less stress, and more energy. I even have more patience with my husband and kids, because I’ve done something for myself. Go figure. I know regular exercise is important, but (here is where the example kicks in) working out has never been a permanent part of my lifestyle. So, when push comes to shove, I shove my workout time. But I have committed to change. Rollie-Poliie-Ollie, no longer—I will get into shape and stay in shape for the sake of my girls, their children, and myself. The benefits are clear. Now, I just have to do it.
So it is Bikini Boot Camp for me. What better way to kick off a lifestyle change than with a Hawaiian vacation? I’ve got to exercise to look good and be healthy, then I will just keep up the program. Besides, how else can I justify hot fudge on that aforementioned ice cream? Hey, I am nursing AND I workout!
