Everyone thinks I’ve quit blogging. I haven’t. I just don’t always post them on FB when I do. But I’ll do better!

I sort of feel like I’m deji-vooing (I have no clue how to spell that. OBVIOUSLY) last year after I had Brighton. Total euphoria at having Boeing OUT of me. Total impatience on waiting for my uterus to contract from a watermelon back into an English pea. Total mortification at the blobby remnants of the body that actually had a muscle once.

And thank you all you nice people that have told me “You can’t even tell you had a baby!” Now that I’ve said thank you, let me tell add, “You haven’t seen me naked.” If you saw me in clothes, I was probably sucked up into a girdle. In fact, I was still wearing a dang girdle when I got prego with Boeing! (Why does it have to be called a girdle? Such a distasteful name. Why not call it for what it is? Air de-compressor- bc you can’t take a decent breath in one of those things. Or Shrink Wrap. I always feel like I’m plastic wrapping my middle so the fat can spread out evenly and bubble over to form back fat and nice love handles). But I’ll tell you why I wear one. When I was prego with Brooklyn, I gained 50 lbs (like in every pregnancy) and my belly button exploded. It juts out like the nose of a hunting dog sniffing out a squirrel. Repugnant. I tried taping a quarter over it. It looked like I was wearing a quarter taped to my belly bottom. So how is that better? So the girdle smoothes out all that nasty.

And just to gauge the “poke out” of my stomach, one might think- I look pretty normal. But it’s totally an optical allusion. My ab muscles are dissipated. Straight up obliterated. I can stick my fist into my stomach and it sinks clear up to my elbow.

So I joined a gym the day Boeing turned 6 weeks. And unlike last time, I joined a gym with child care so I don’t have to work out at 3 in the morning. My pediatrician told me that joining a gym was probably the best thing I could do for my family. Boy was he right. Now I can throw all of my anxiousness and wrecked nerves at a pile of weights instead of at my family. And even though Starling is a bit stronger than me (He’s pumping 150… to my….10), it’s been really nice to work out together. And spending a couple hours AWAY from my darlings is SO relaxing! And we are all so happy to see each other after working out, that we get along, and stay on schedule rather nicely. We go 6 days a week at 8:00. Going on 2 weeks now. That’s a big deal. Our whole family wakes up at the butt-crack of dawn.

And with good reason. I think in terms of food. So let me build my body out of food for a nice mental picture. My arms and legs are cooked noodles. Scrawny, no muscle, boiled too long noodles. My stomach? Oatmeal. A glob of soggy oatmeal- all lumpy and mushy. My butt? A cabage. But less firm.  My boobs would be grapefruits. They are the only thing I got going for me. But only if you don’t touch them or make any noises resembling a babies cry. Because if that happens, they spring a leak and then everything in a five foot radius is getting doused in milk. So yeah. Gym is good.