Back at Square One

"It takes nine months to put on the way so it's only right that it should take nine months to lose the weight."

I've always loathed that phrase. It seemed like a way to justify not losing the baby weight or a way to rationalize poor eating decisions when caring for a newborn.

But I found myself clinging to that phrase more and more as the months ticked by after Si's birth. I had lost some of the 35-ish pounds I gained but stalled with about 15 to go. I had lots of things to blame – lack of sleep, stress (that of caring for a newborn and outside sources) and hormones, all of which are scientifically proven to hinder weight loss.

It was frustrating to say the least and, I'm sure as I've written here, I had resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn't have a fighting chance until breastfeeding was over. Nursing Si and maintaining my supply came first, and my body second.

The holidays arrived, though. The season of indulgence came in like a lion, and I found myself engaging in eating behaviors that not only negatively affected my waistline but my self esteem as well.

So on Jan. 4, the first Monday of the new year, I said enough. It was time to get into gear. It wasn't a resolution or a "new year, new you" effort. It was a "get your head out of your ass" kind of thing. The first step was getting on the scale and acknowledging the number, whatever it may be. Second was packing my lunch, mostly vegetables and lean protein. Third was avoiding all of the sugar at work.

It was tough – each step – but I stayed the course (am still staying the course). All of the things I thought I couldn't do, all of the obstacles in front of me, whether I had put them there or other things had, seemed to be inching away from my path.

This morning, I stepped on the scale. And then I stepped off. And then I stepped on again. Both times, the display showed a number I haven't see in nearly 18 months. It's a number that I've been waiting for, one that puts me in the healthy weight range (according to the BMI chart). It was a number, according my doctor's chart, that was 1 pound less than I weighed in at the first prenatal appointment.

Yahoo for eating a crap ton of vegetables and having a bit of a wonky stomach yesterday!

Excited as I was, I didn't think much about the timing. It just seemed long overdue. But then, I started going over the day with Mark.

Iron Miles' uniform shirt. I need to pack his lunch. I'll drop him off at school and then head to the doctor. Si has his 9-month check up today.

Si. He's 9 months. NINE MONTHS. The length of time it took me to gain 35 pounds and grow a baby. And the time, it seems, it took me to lose the weight.

I would like to lose more. I plan to lose more as even though I'm getting to a happy place with the scale, I'd like to be closer to my Weight Watchers goal weight; I want to fit into my summer clothes; and I want to feel a bit fitter than I do now.

Today, though, I will celebrate. With a giant ass mother effin' burger ... hold the bun, add the veggies with a tall glass of water on the side.