Wonder Woman Wednesday, Week 1 - Jiggly bits.

I realize that there are many versions of Wonder Woman - just google image her and you'll get 15 million - yes million! - different pictures.  Some are the iconic Lynda Carter in her 70s best, others the original DC Comic cartoon.  There are various, um, sexualized versions, and plenty of girls and women dressed in their Halloween finest, or perhaps not so finest.

No matter what google shows me though, I have an image in my mind of what Wonder Woman looks like - a strong, fit, confident woman.  I love the above picture, even though Lynda Carter's waist is cinched in so much that it looks like she can't breathe.

Motherhood certainly does a job on a woman's body.  Though never skinny, I used to have a good curvy figure.  I was trim and healthy and felt pretty decent in a bathing suit.

Then I got pregnant.  And gained 60 pounds.   And then lost 50.
Then I got pregnant again.  And gained 60 pounds.  And then lost 50.
Then I got pregnant again.  And gained 60 pounds.  And then lost 50.

You know what is coming next...an excess of 30 pounds.  Plus a 10 pound baby boy - my other 2 were small, only in the mid 8 pound range -  will do a number on the ol' tummy muscles, leaving them forever stretched, flabby and rolly polly.  Muffin top central.

Add to this the fact that my husband works for a major candy manufacturer - and has access to all the free chocolate a gal can handle.  And I mean good chocolate.  The really good kind.

I've been trying to lose these darn 30 pounds for a few years now.  And the pesky things just won't go away!  I've read every diet book there is, and tried a good number of them out and failed miserably at each and every one.

I even ran a marathon last year, thinking that all that exercise would result in millions of calories burned.  Well sure those miles burned calories, but those miles also made me ravenous.  So not a single pound was lost.  Sure I had great leg muscles, but said muscles were still covered by jiggly bits.

The truth is, I love to cook.  And I love to eat what I cook.  And eat what others cook for me.  And eat what Panera Bread bakes for me, too.

And I love a glass (or 3) of cabernet.  Or merlot.  And I've rarely met a martini I didn't like.

And don't even get me started on chocolate.  Oh, the chocolate! Dark, milk, white, spicy, flavored with liqueur, in various shapes, colors and wrappers.  You get the picture.

Now it's fine for me to joke about eating and drinking, but when it comes down to it, I am not comfortable in my own skin.  And I haven't been for a while.  I know what I have to do to lose weight - eat healthy, eat less and exercise more - but it is really really hard.  I marvel at how people lose 50, 100, 200 pounds or more.  And I complain about my 30. 

Truth is, I think I've been lazy.  I know what to do, I just haven't done it.

So my first step in rediscovering my inner Wonder Woman is to give myself a kick in the pants - my larger size pants - and get to work at losing these 30 pounds.

I'm realistic about my body.  I know that motherhood and age change a body in ways that you can't necessarily reverse - without a scalpel anyway.  So I'm not expecting to look like Lynda Carter.  I just want to feel good in my own skin and not self conscious about my various jiggly bits.

So I'm finishing off my glass of merlot and getting to work.

Playdate time. Where's the wine?

Ahh the playdate.  Specifically the playdates that my 3 boys have with my BFF Beth's 3 boys.  For a grand total of 6 boys.  That is a lot of boys.  Plus now we've each added a puppy to our broods.  So 6 boys plus 2 puppies.

Our boys are pretty close in ages - mine are 10, 8 and 3.  Hers are 9, 7 and 3.  Whenever we have playtime after school, we fantasize that the kids will all play peacefully downstairs while we moms quietly sip a glass of wine watching Oprah.  Though we are now resigning ourselves to the fact that getting our boys together means that neither of us will get to complete a sentence, the wine will be guzzled and we will be lucky to catch Oprah's ending credits.

Case in point, today.  Beth made cookies for an after school snack.  Beth's boy #3 (BB#3) walked around the kitchen with his 2 cookies on a plate that slid off so my dog ate them, sharing them with Beth's dog.  Then my dog grabbed my boy #2's (DB#2) cookie off the table because he didn't sit down fast enough.  The dogs then romped around the kitchen for a while all sugared up.  Then DB#3 had some bathroom time but forgot to point his thingy downwards so his shirt, pants, socks and undies were soaked, along with the bathroom floor.  Then Beth's puppy tinkled all over her bed in the kitchen. Then they all wanted to go outside which meant suiting up in snow pants.  Add to that the noise of 6 boys and 2 dogs, and well you get the picture.  We didn't even get the chance to turn on Oprah.  Forget the wine.  We were together for 55 minutes.

Last summer we came to a rather sad conclusion.  It appears that whenever we all show up at our local playground, all the other kids seem to disappear.  We must look pretty scary, invading the playground with the normal wild screams of boys on the loose.  But sure enough, we noticed a trend.

Beth summed it up well though.  "Hey," she whispered, "let's head over to the playground in the next township.  No one knows us over there."

Next summer we might not be so lucky.  Our reputations - and noise - may precede us.