Baby Fat
The trials and tribulations of the post baby body. How do those celebs do it?
Have you ever looked at yourself and thought “If only I could get rid of that bit of fat there, or change that part of my body I could wear that outfit again” If you haven’t you must be very lucky indeed. I’ve had two children and have found it increasingly difficult to lose the ‘baby bulge’ around my tummy. I can’t claim to have had a wonderful flat stomach before the children (at least not since reaching my thirties!) but at least I could wear most things without too much worry. What has made it worse now is that about a year after the birth of my first child I had a traumatic time which caused me to lose some of my spare tyre. This led me to believe that about a year after my second child the weight would start to drop off again. How wrong I was!
So here I am on a hot summer’s day going on the treadmill for 10 minutes of jogging (or at least 5 mins of jogging interspersed with some fast walking, whilst I hold onto the bars to get my breath back and guzzle the water!). I’m thinking there has got to be an easier way but I’ve never been any good at doing diets, and my semi logical mind can’t accept the claims of wonder diet pills and potions. I read recently that you should wear a pedometer all day and aim to do 10,000 steps a day. This looks easy when you literally leave it on all day until you realise that operating the accelerator in the car does not constitute steps taken, and you have to remove it as soon as you get in the car, and remember to re-attach when you get out! Please don’t tell me to not use the car at all as I know it’s better if you can walk places but it’s not always that practical when your child’s school is a 20 minute drive away (but that’s a whole other story).
I’m also doing the requisite sit ups and push ups (I’ve read that building up your muscle increases your metabolic rate and thus stops the fat increasing). However these can be a little bit difficult if I only remember to do them when my youngest is there as she insists on crawling underneath me which causes me to collapse in giggles. Or worse still she thinks its time for ‘mummy to play horsy’ and she climbs onto my bloated stomach and jumps up and down.
I’ve tried in the past to join private health clubs on the promise of attended regularly enough to justify the cost. However all good intentions soon diminish, certainly quicker than my tummy! Despite being lured in initially by the great surroundings and ‘friendly staff’ I still feel like everyone’s watching me, that they all have a buddy to go with and I’m that poor one who’s all on her own, and not very good at anything. Or is it just the fact that I’m inherently lazy and going on the bike, treadmill, or cross trainer doesn’t exactly appeal for more than 10 minutes. ‘Go to a class’ I hear you say, its true I’m more likely to participate there so as not to be the only one not jumping on the spot, or sliding to the left. I have to admit I have found them good in the past but without someone to bully me, or a friend to go along with so I feel obliged to keep attending, I tend to go to a few classes then find some excuse or reason that stops me.
I could do with a team sport so that non attendance is letting the team down but, herein probably lies the real problem; I’m not any good at anything. I was terrible at sport when I was at school. I was always one of the last to get picked for teams by the other classmates, (why do they put kids through that at school?). My school report for PE always said words like ‘tries hard’ which everyone knows means ‘tries her best but can’t do it’ just like those immortal words ‘good personality’ which usually means ‘ ugly as sin’. Although why they thought I tried hard I don’t know as I usually tried my best to avoid games, or spent most of the time chatting to my equally ‘hard trying’ mates.
I blame my parents! A cliché I know but isn’t that what your supposed to do? They were never what you would call fitness fanatics. We always had holidays in the UK and it usually involved some walking up hills, but that was about the limit. Although I do have vague memories of dad trying to get me to play badminton once but it didn’t last. If I can’t blame my parents my failings at school sports have got to be blamed on my size. I’m only little (or petite as I prefer) so trying to cock my short stumpy legs over the high jump bar, or a hurdle, was a frightening experience, and attempts to get a net or goal (or whatever it’s called) at netball was impossible with much taller girls defending it. ‘Size doesn’t matter in hockey’ you say, true but all that whacking at peoples ankles used to have me running to the sidelines to avoid having to participate. Maybe I should have added the term wimp to petite and lazy?
So the answer? Well I’m trying for the ‘lifestyle’ change of walking to places as much as I can and trying (I am, honest!) to eat sensibly. This is combined with the slightly more energetic occasional bike ride, (I’m the one who doesn’t know how to dismount without falling over!), swimming, and oh yes the treadmill. I’ll let you know how I get on.
So here I am on a hot summer’s day going on the treadmill for 10 minutes of jogging (or at least 5 mins of jogging interspersed with some fast walking, whilst I hold onto the bars to get my breath back and guzzle the water!). I’m thinking there has got to be an easier way but I’ve never been any good at doing diets, and my semi logical mind can’t accept the claims of wonder diet pills and potions. I read recently that you should wear a pedometer all day and aim to do 10,000 steps a day. This looks easy when you literally leave it on all day until you realise that operating the accelerator in the car does not constitute steps taken, and you have to remove it as soon as you get in the car, and remember to re-attach when you get out! Please don’t tell me to not use the car at all as I know it’s better if you can walk places but it’s not always that practical when your child’s school is a 20 minute drive away (but that’s a whole other story).
I’m also doing the requisite sit ups and push ups (I’ve read that building up your muscle increases your metabolic rate and thus stops the fat increasing). However these can be a little bit difficult if I only remember to do them when my youngest is there as she insists on crawling underneath me which causes me to collapse in giggles. Or worse still she thinks its time for ‘mummy to play horsy’ and she climbs onto my bloated stomach and jumps up and down.
I’ve tried in the past to join private health clubs on the promise of attended regularly enough to justify the cost. However all good intentions soon diminish, certainly quicker than my tummy! Despite being lured in initially by the great surroundings and ‘friendly staff’ I still feel like everyone’s watching me, that they all have a buddy to go with and I’m that poor one who’s all on her own, and not very good at anything. Or is it just the fact that I’m inherently lazy and going on the bike, treadmill, or cross trainer doesn’t exactly appeal for more than 10 minutes. ‘Go to a class’ I hear you say, its true I’m more likely to participate there so as not to be the only one not jumping on the spot, or sliding to the left. I have to admit I have found them good in the past but without someone to bully me, or a friend to go along with so I feel obliged to keep attending, I tend to go to a few classes then find some excuse or reason that stops me.
I could do with a team sport so that non attendance is letting the team down but, herein probably lies the real problem; I’m not any good at anything. I was terrible at sport when I was at school. I was always one of the last to get picked for teams by the other classmates, (why do they put kids through that at school?). My school report for PE always said words like ‘tries hard’ which everyone knows means ‘tries her best but can’t do it’ just like those immortal words ‘good personality’ which usually means ‘ ugly as sin’. Although why they thought I tried hard I don’t know as I usually tried my best to avoid games, or spent most of the time chatting to my equally ‘hard trying’ mates.
I blame my parents! A cliché I know but isn’t that what your supposed to do? They were never what you would call fitness fanatics. We always had holidays in the UK and it usually involved some walking up hills, but that was about the limit. Although I do have vague memories of dad trying to get me to play badminton once but it didn’t last. If I can’t blame my parents my failings at school sports have got to be blamed on my size. I’m only little (or petite as I prefer) so trying to cock my short stumpy legs over the high jump bar, or a hurdle, was a frightening experience, and attempts to get a net or goal (or whatever it’s called) at netball was impossible with much taller girls defending it. ‘Size doesn’t matter in hockey’ you say, true but all that whacking at peoples ankles used to have me running to the sidelines to avoid having to participate. Maybe I should have added the term wimp to petite and lazy?
So the answer? Well I’m trying for the ‘lifestyle’ change of walking to places as much as I can and trying (I am, honest!) to eat sensibly. This is combined with the slightly more energetic occasional bike ride, (I’m the one who doesn’t know how to dismount without falling over!), swimming, and oh yes the treadmill. I’ll let you know how I get on.
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