Don't Waste the Pretty

I read an article in Parenthood recently that struck a chord, but not the one the writer intended to strike. The piece was entitled "Feel Better Naked" and was all about believing that your body is sexy and incredible even though you may be toting a few extra pounds and sagging in some places you weren't before, post-baby.   The author cautions, "Drop the notion that "where your body should be" is where Victoria Beckham's is-- or even where yours was prebaby-- and you'll make life easier."  Let's face it.  The life-creating and birthing capabilities of the female body are miraculous, truly.  But do I really have to revel in my "mushy tushy" and not-so-loving love handles for the rest of my life?

Is 27 really the end of the pretty?

For the past nine months, I have tried to embrace the new me.  These stretch marks are war wounds from a battle well-fought.  This cushy tummy is the perfect pillow for Liam to cuddle up to.  More to love, right?  I've tried the not-caring thing.  It's true, "Denise Richards might look good in a bathing suit, but I highly doubt any of us would want Charlie Sheen for a baby daddy."  I should be grateful for and respectful of my body.  It can do amazing things.  And there are more important things in life than vanity.

But is it just about vanity?  What about health and fitness?  

I came to a conclusion.  If my body can create another human, why can't it bounce back to the days of hotness?  Easier said than done, but one can try.  So what did I do?  I joined a women's fitness club down the street from my house.  There are cardio, kickboxing, pilates, yoga and zumba classes galore and I can go to as many as I want for a flat rate.  Why, you ask, have I signed up for indoor classes when I live in the outdoor fitness capitol of the world?  Well, it is because I have a procrastination disease and I end up sitting around all day wearing my workout clothes, but not actually working-out in them.   I need a schedule.  I need to feel like if I don't go, I'm wasting money and letting down my instructors.  This is my version of self-motivation.

Wes has agreed to take care of Liam during the one-hour classes while I'm sweating to the oldies...or Black Eyed Peas.  I want the pretty back, and I'm going to get it.  There are too few years of it to waste it away pretending my babies can't live without me for an hour a day.  I want to be my healthiest self.

So watch out, glutes and gut.  I'm coming for you.