{ reality check }

So fat is a funny thing. Over the last year I had walked and did Jazzercize.  Asked me if I lost anything.  Ask me if my measurements changed.  Go ahead.  I DARE you.

N O T H I N G .

Then summer came.  And so did 256,974 degree weather.  And then 5 weeks ago I found out we were expecting.  Unfortunately, as a handful of you know, 3 weeks ago I ended up going through a miscarriage.  I actually was able to handle it better than I thought I would.  Doesn't mean it was easy, but with the help of great friends, wonderful meals that were brought in, and a very thoughtful and divinely appreciated Cold Stone gift card from Camryn, I was able to get {and continue to go} through it with, what I consider, flying colors.  I decided that I would laugh.  Real or fake, I would make myself laugh.  Doesn't mean that I didn't cry {a lot}, but it made things easier {that. And percocet}.  I decided to keep writing here at mma to make myself find humor in my somewhat storm-cloudy world.  It was theraputic.  And then I decided that, even though it may sound a little unsensitive, I would laugh at the funny things that happened through it all.  I apologize if I may sound somewhat heartless, but this is how I'm dealing with it.

I knew something was wrong when I could eat bacon.  Dead serious.  I get sicker than a dog on a ferris wheel when I'm pregnant.  But this time I felt normal.  Something was up.  I could eat eggs.  And french toast.  And bacon.  And eggs.  And, well... food.  And smells didn't bother me.  I knew it was inevitable.  This wasn't normal.  But even with knowing this, I still cried when I started bleeding.  

When I went into the ER, they gave me an IV and pumped 2 liters of fluid into my system.  And then get this.  They instructed me NOT TO PEE until they did an ultra sound.  As some of you may know, ER's can be a little slow on taking care of their patients.  After waiting 2 hours, I began to sob as I felt the urge to pee like no one's business.  I was full on doing the potty dance in my chair, and, wait for it.... actually, physically holding myself so I wouldn't pee all over the chair and floor.  It would have served them right, though, to clean up that mess.  Who in their right mind would put that much fluid into someone who gets mistaken for a 4th grader at the local elementary school?!  I was DYING.  {And Mr. Smith was trying not to laugh at the spectacle that was indeed... me}  But I was determined to be a good and faithful patient and obey the nurse's orders.  And then they took pity on my writhing.  But, again, being the good and faithful patient, I didn't completely empty my bladder.  Good girl.  Or so I thought.  As I waited another hour, and the last of the fluids drained from the IV bag into my arm, the urge came again.  I should have just emptied the stupid thing in the first place.  

Here is where I rebelled.  I snuck into the bathroom and peed again.  Good thing, too.  It wasn't until over 30 minutes after that when I was finally herded into the ultrasound room.  I wasn't laughing then, but I sure do laugh at it now....    

Man, the body is a weird thing.  In just 6 weeks I had gained a bit of weight.  And then when I was recovering I gained a bit more.  What the   ???  I know it sounds vain, but pregnancy weight gain is only worth it when you're holding a little baby afterwards.  Grrrr...... 

So two weeks ago I decided to change things up a bit.  I said to myself:

"Self?"

"Yes?"

"What if we cut our calorie intake by like a gazillion and see what happens?"

"Sounds amazing- and let's make sure we put some swimming and walking in there just for fun."

"Perfect."

So I cut way back and kept active and you know what?  I GAiNed Two Freakin' Pounds!  Maybe it's muscle- but I doubt it.  It's just two pounds, you say.  It's not like your overweight or anything.  What does it really matter?  Why the tears?

Because I can't fit into my pants anymore.

And it's a lovely reminder of what happened three weeks ago.  Grrrr....

AND, I might add, two pounds actually is lot when you're 5 foot stumpy.  Two pounds ON TOP of the 15 that I need to loose is obnoxiously frustrating.  It wouldn't be half as bad if the fat would kindly distribute e v e n l y around my body.  Oh, no.  It has to accumulate here:

I fear that no matter how hard I try {short of hiring a personal trainer, chef and dietician} I will never be able to look like this:

But since I don't have the financial resources of Hollywood, I try to tell myself:

"Self?"

"Yes?"

"You need to accept your body for what it is and the fat that it just can't seem to part with.  The handfuls of cottage cheese that plague your backside.  The curds of whey that squish out 4 inches to each side when you sit down.  The gut that sticks out past your chest when you slouch down on the couch, or the car, or...."

"Thanks.  I get the picture."

And then I came across this web site: 

Here you can truly find out your body type.  Sadly, I didn't need to 'figure it out'.  I knew.  But after this informative read, I have decided that I should be:

It's Reality people.  Reality.

Like when Reachel wrote:

Your most plentiful circumference lies below your navel. Feel free to exercise to your heart's content (hearts like exercise). But when you are done, you'll just be a smaller pear.

Grrr..... oh well.  Looks like a pear I will forever be.  But I have no need to fret and cry over a shape that won't change- she gives fabulous advice on how to dress so I don't look so pear-like.  And who doesn't love an excuse to go clothes shopping.

And then I was shocked and somewhat proud of myself when I read: And who's complaining, lower figures imply divine fertility, and other popular prerequisites to fertility and immediately blamed my miscarriage on my hubby.  It MUST have been his swimmers that weren't performing optimally.  

Okay, I'm totally kidding. 

 

But all joking aside, this is what I have learned in the past month:

"Self?"

"Yes?"

"Life is precious.

Cherish what you have.

Remember to count your blessings.

It could always be worse- be grateful it's not.

And remember to always, always, always laugh.

No matter how hard."

"Don't forget to add that I'll be okay!"

"Oh yeah.  And you'll be Just Fine."

And you know what?  I WILL!

Just as soon as I stop talking to myself...