Happy in the dressing room

I had a moment in the dressing room last week. At my house, there is no full length mirror so it's quite a shock seeing myself in technicolor. The evidence of three, hard fought pregnancies is undeniable. Yet, I was quite pleased with myself. In fact, I was happy.

Imagine that. Happy in a dressing room.

I don't have a flat, concave belly. I don't have chisled anything. Yet, I'm pleased as punch. I never expected this. My goal was not to be the fat mom. That was my first and only goal.

I can't express the relief I have, not being the fat mom. At the park I'm wearing skinny jeans and crawling in the tubes with the kids. I'm trying to do pull ups on the monkey bars. I'm laughing and chasing my tiny kids. Pretending I'm a hungry monster trying to eat their toes. They squeal with wide eyed happiness. I don't feel exhausted or dehydrated. I feel strong and pretty. Mr. Hall gives me hugs and pats me on the tush. It's all very exciting.

Let me tell you about the dresses.

Downtown, there is a consignment store I've been eyeing for years. All manner of dresses and cool vintage wear. I've been coveting. Deeply, privately and with hope. Last week I was there and wow. I am a fox when dressed properly.

There was one dress I loved the most. It was from banana republic. Retro inspired, black and white pattern. There was a red dress so beautiful, it made me blush. The owner gave a frowny face. She loved those dresses too. "But I'm too big for them". But  I'm not. To the victor go the spoils.

This is my real life. I'm capable of lifting heavy things, hopping on boxes and jump rope a mile a minute. Nothing seems impossible now. I feel smoother and taller. And it's not going to stop.

Do I smell dog food?

The downward facing dog pose (I can almost get my heels to touch the floor!!):


When I was at yoga I smelled the weirdest smell--dog food. I mean, the yoga studio is on the third floor of an old office building down town.

So I thought, maybe the teacher brings her dog, puts out some kibble, and I look around looking for a bowl while doing the extended triangle pose and the half moon pose.



The Extended triangle pose (I love this pose because it kills my inner thighs-thus rendering the thigh master a non-needed item in my life):



And the smell gets stronger and I'm like WTF?? Am I having a stroke? Then I remember, it's a burning hair smell people smell before they stroke out--not dog kibble.


The half moon pose (The key to this pose is keeping abs tight, because THAT'S WHERE THE BALANCE COMES FROM-not your feet) I just figured that out recently, makes a huge difference:



THEN I SEE IT!! I am directly in front of a vent. Someone in the building must have a dog.

WEIRD AND FUN ALL AT THE SAME TIME.

AND OH YEAH. The teacher is from Finland and had the same accent as the Swedish chef from the muppets. WHICH WAS EFFING HILARIOUS :)

good times, good times.



Now get out there and GET BENDY!!

Breaking open the female mind: Weight edition

A conversation occurred between me and my mom the other day. The subject was a family member. My cousin has been living with the same girl, Marla, for about six years. I see her sometimes, at family gatherings. I like this girl. I want her to be married into the family.

Marla is the only one with artistic sensibilities in our family. Besides me. I like her. A lot.

But, considering that her dog moved into my cousin's house before she did, I doubt he is going to marry her. Which makes me sad. What makes me sadder is her weight. Like me, Marla has struggled. We have both been through weight watchers. We shared this with each other. It is an act of trust, sharing this with another woman. Very, very scary. It is opening up venerable spots and saying, here, take a look.

I have maintained the thirty five pound weight loss. She, on the other had, has exploded.

I was discussing this with my mom. How sad I feel, how powerless. I want her to be with me, now that we live in the same town. I want her to start again, on the road of being healthy. And I am powerless to help her.

This is where my mom jumps in:

"I don't know WHY you feel sorry for HER! She has a great job, she is really good person. She is a really NICE GIRL! Why do you think she NEEDS HELP?!! SHE'S A GOOD PERSON, WHY DO YOU KEEP SAYING THAT SHE IS UNHAPPY? She looks happy, she obviously is!"

Discussing weight issues with my big mom is well, pointing out the elephant in the room. This defense of Marla's character is an attempt at redirection from the real issue. The real issue is how big she is. The fact of the matter is, there is shame there. This is what women feel.

I can tell you right now, no woman is happy underneath a heavy weight. Especially this woman. I hadn't seen how far she had exploded, how much weight she had gained. And when I saw her, she didn't make eye contact. Talked very fast and left the room and then the house. She hunched, she blustered. I felt bad for her. We both felt this uncomfortable energy. Yuck.

There is nothing worse than having another woman feel sorry for you because you are chubby. It is demeaning in a way.

But, I felt bad for her. Not sorry for her. I did not pity her. She has been through weight watchers. She has seen the light. She just needs to find it again. And this will only happen when she is ready, when she wants to. Until then, I see her pain on display and I feel bad.

All of this relates to what this post is really about.

ME.

I feel myself falling of the wagon. I am eating too much, my belly is gr owing, I feel down and sluggish. And even though I am still 35 pounds lighter, I need to attack a second level here.

Reinforcing the healthy house of Hall. Building up what is standing but shaky.

With that being said, here are the stats:

Mrs. Hall

Height 5'5"

Weight 139.2

BMI: 23.9
Percentage body fat: 25%

I will blog each week, on Wednesdays,about what is going on in this area of my life.

Should be a good read.

And for the love of God. Leave comments. Supportive wonderful comments.

It scares me, this stuff. Scares me a lot.