The bear is nine months old today. My goal was to be down to my pre-pregnancy weight by today. I figured it took me nine months to gain the weight, I should be allowed nine months to lose it. Granted, I wasn't really pregnant nine months . . . that's just one of those rounded numbers that sounds better. I was technically pregnant for 8 months and a day and that includes the 2 weeks before we had evidence.
I'm an awful dieter. I can't do it. I like food. More specifically, I like food that is not good for me. I am scared of the day the bear asks why he has to eat all his veggies when I don't. I'll enjoy my poor eating habits until then. The YMCA here gives free memberships to the spouses of deployed military members. I've been going regularly and working my butt off, but the number has not budged in a few weeks.
The moral of the story: while naked, first thing in the morning and you round to the nearest 5, I have done it. Not exactly what I had in mind when I made this plan. But, it's acceptable. Maybe tomorrow I'll weigh myself right after I nurse the bear . . . perhaps those ounces will knock it down to a nicer number. I find it amusing how I will manipulate all of these circumstances to get the right number. That really shouldn't count, but the emotional boost is nice.
Just another plan that didn't go as expected. I'm okay with it though. The bear will appreciate my hugs and love more than a skinny momma.