I'm Going To Murder My Bathroom Scale

I don't know if you have realized this from reading my previous posts on here, but I am NOT what one might call a "Health Nut."  I drink too much coffee, I don't eat enough fruits and vegetables, and I loathe exercise.  I take a multi-vitamin (sometimes) and I try to drink a V-8 Fusion to cancel out my Route 44 Coke from Sonic.  I had 4 kids in less than 8 years, so my body is kind of pissed at me and refuses to go back to anything even close to what it once looked like -- not that I was a super model before.  Weight has been a constant struggle in my life and has only been compounded by living with 4 kids.  It is hard enough to eat right, but when you are making Mac & Cheese with hot dogs or pizza for your kids, its really hard to make yourself a salad.  Don't get me wrong, my kids eat vegetables when I fix them with dinner, but sometimes its easier to just throw some chips on the plate (potatoes are vegetables, right?).   Sometimes the only exercise I get is when I remember to put my ankle weights on before I go to Costco.  I have a gym membership, and I use it, but sometimes the only reason I go is because my membership includes 2 hours of childcare.  I have often been tempted to take my kids and drop them off and then find an empty Yoga studio and take a nap.  They have the comfy mats in there and everything.

But lately, I've been making more of an effort.  I've been to the gym on average 4 or 5 times a week, I've been drinking more water, and I've been eating more balanced meals.  Here's the thing -- my bathroom scale has yet to notice this increased effort and it is starting to piss me off.  I can do almost anything if I feel like its worth it -- that's how I got through 4 pregnancies.  But If I am suffering, then I REALLY need to see some results.  I know there is no magic bullet, but it's been weeks and that number on the scale is mocking me.  I'll lose a pound and it'll come back with 2 of it's friends, and then I'll lose 3 pounds, and then nothing, and gain 2 back and then....well, you get the idea.  I can't even tell a difference in my clothes or anything.  I was bemoaning all of this to my mother (who is the picture of health) and she said "Well, it's not just about losing weight and how you look, it's more about being healthy."  That's a bunch of crap -- it IS all about the weight and how you look.  I bet I could ask everyone at my gym why they're there and everyone of them would answer with something about losing or maintaining their weight, or looking better in their swimsuit, or something like that.  There may be a couple of older people who are there because their cholesterol was high or something, but most people are there because they are concerned about how they look. 

Don't get me wrong -- I am not obsessed with my body image or anything.  My husband is the only person I need to impress, but I'd like to not frighten anyone by going to the pool.  No one dresses the way I do if they are concerned about what people think.  I once called another mom to confirm birthday party details and I said I was trying to remember exactly who she was and her response was "I think I know who you are....you're the one with the pony-tail, yoga pants, and always has her camera, right?"  That's me!  I have at least 6 pairs of black yoga pants (I don't do yoga) and I would wear them all the time if I could get away with it, but there are a few times when they aren't appropriate -- like date night and Sunday morning church services (although, they're probably okay for Wednesday night, right?).  I like to be comfortable, and until the powers that be decide to make jeans that cover my ass, not touch my ribs, and not give me a "muffin-top" I will continue to wear yoga pants whenever its socially acceptable....and I will continually push the envelope on when that is.  Part of that stems from being perpetually pregnant for nearly 8 years but mostly I'd rather be comfortable than trendy. I've never been much of a glam girl.  Most days it's very little if any make-up, pony-tail, T-shirt, and Yoga pants. 

I go to the gym in my Yoga pants and T-shirt, row 2,000 meters, walk 3 miles, do a few weights, stretch and go home and take a nap during which my kids make more messes for me to clean up, which burns more calories.  I don't eat their dinner, but make myself a salad or eat a Weight Watcher's frozen meal. And still the stupid scale refuses to reward me.  I hate that scale.