On to more fantasies straight from the crazy pregnant lady's brain.
As I'm sitting here eating a bag of cookies while watching the Biggest Loser (because there is no other way to watch this show other than with a bag of some fat or sugar laden objects) I begin to entertain my post pregnancy body fantasies again. When I was pregnant with the triplets it was the same way. I couldn't wait to work out again. I was going to kick ass and take names at the gym. Take long walks with the triple stroller until all the fat disappeared and then I was going to get the 6 pack.
Yes, she thinks she might be able to get a 6 pack at almost 40 with a body that is apple shaped, meaning the only place I will NEVER lose all the weight is on my stomach.
Oh well. Then the reality of triplets. Sure I took a lot of walks at first. I found that the solution to any time they refused to sleep was to pack them all in the stroller and walk. That way I wasn't actively trying to make them sleep, didn't even have to look at them while they cried, and, even though I was also not sleeping, we all got a break from each other. So I lost all the pregnancy weight. It was nice.
But then I went insane. I had to hire help because otherwise? I'd be dead. Electric chair or self induced, whichever. So I outsourced the walking. She walked them every day, not me. I sat on my arse and tried to regain my sanity. For some reason this involved cookies.
By the time I got pregnant again I was back in boot camp. I was trying. I went to work out boot camp 3 or 4 mornings a week. I was going to get back in shape, but why was I so so so exhausted that I could barely drag myself there only to end up coming home and shoving more food in my face? Oh, that's right. I was pregnant and had no stinking idea. So much for that.
So here we are again, in the end stages of a pregnancy thinking "I can't wait to get back to boot camp." Riiiight. I might do it. There's only one infant this time. My sanity may take a lesser blow, but because I'm having to spend all of our money on help right now since I can't lift my kids I will very quickly have to give up many nanny hours to conserve what money we have left to buy a new house and move. That will leave me a lot less time to work out. Now, I will be running after triplets while carrying an infant, no doubt larger than the average as we seem to produce, strapped to my chest, but that does not make 6 pack abs. And time shortage pretty much guarantees bad eating habits. At least with me.
So why do I dream of the 6 pack still? Why not just dream of getting down to my average weight, which I haven't been in 3 years? Oh the fantasies. Will they never end? Just give me a few weeks at the Biggest Loser ranch people. Just a few. And fewer fried chicken ads on tv. That would help too. And a mother in law who didn't like baking cupcakes and cookies quite so much. yeah. And, maybe, just maybe, a different set of genes.