Monday, July 24, 2006

Hot Mom-ness

"There is no try. There is only do, and not do." --Yoda

I am not really a Star Wars fan. Well, there was the time after The Empire Strikes Back when I told my mother I wasn't getting out of bed until Han Solo was un-carbon-froze. "But that won't be for three years!" she said. "Whatever it takes," I said fiercely. That was a pretty heightened moment for me, popular entertainment-wise. But I digress.

I actually heard this quote at a Mary Kay party I attended last Wednesday. It wasn't really advertised as a Mary Kay party; it was called a "Pamper Party." Now that I am a mom, I experience a slight frisson of horror when I hear the words "Pamper Party." But it turned out to be about feet, not tushes. And I did have a good time, though (as obviously intended) I do get whipped into a frenzy of believing that maybe I should sell Mary Kay at these things. "I can make my own hours, and the stuff sells itself!" I told David. David is suspicious because he thinks it's a pyramid scheme. I do not have a problem with the idea of gossiping about makeup all day. It's more that I'm not sure I want to do it with people I know.

I attended the Mary Kay party in a blaze of triumph (lost over two pounds!) directly after my second Weight Watchers meeting in six months, and the first after discovering that I was correct in my suspicion that I'd gained close to 20 pounds since becoming a mom. How about that, folks? I put on the baby weight AFTER meeting the child. I was looking just fine in China, and feeling pretty good if I do say so myself. But six months of a) eating many of my meals in the car while driving a sleeping baby around and b) cramming into my mouth whatever happens to be lying near my hand and c) feeling too exhausted to shop, cook or even assemble and d) ["d" is the big one here] suffering from acute gastric distress whenever food is present because a small person is shouting "Ma-MA!" at me repeatedly while I shovel my portion faster and faster has (whew!) yielded the not-so-surprising result of being unable to squeeze into any of my clothes.

Recent perusals of family photo shoots have made me wince. Who the hell is that?, I ask myself. That's you, only bigger, myself answers. I have packed on the pounds as efficiently as someone who is prepping for a movie role or training to swim the English Channel. And the outcome, in addition to not being pretty, is totally enervating. I drag myself around town, panting, lugging my solid daughter (who herself has gained not even one ounce, but three inches, since arriving in our fair country) and marvel that I used to be so lively and fun-loving. And while we're mulling this over, could you pass the Red Vines, please?

A few weeks ago, I was driving Jarrah to My Kid's Clubhouse, feeling awful, and contemplating my future, in which I would most decidely not be a hot mom. And I want to be a hot mom! Aren't I entitled to at least a few years of hot mom-ness after all I've been through? And then a little voice said, "Well, I know someone who can help. You."

That did it, Readers. Like a shaft of light through the clouds I was pierced with the realization that yes, it's hard eating well as a mom, yes, it's hard taking care of myself when I'm taking care of someone else, and no, it's not going to get any easier anytime soon. But the little voice said, "Do it anyway. Do it even though it's hard. Do it BECAUSE it's hard." And, just like that, I felt so much better.

I made it to my first meeting last Thursday, but with growing pains. David hit traffic and I was so late I only heard the last 10 minutes of the discussion. It was hard to look at the scale. But when all the paperwork was complete, and I was sitting amongst my people in the cold, white metal chairs, I knew it was right. The leader ended the meeting with a quote: "There is no such thing as will power. There are simply people who are ready to change, and people who are not."

It brought tears to my eyes. May The Force be with me.


suebdo said...

Yoda as weight-loss inspiration. I love it ... it could give WW the ultimate edge. Of course a picture of Jabba the Hut in a bikini could probably keep me out of Pizza the Hut. You go girl! You'll be on planet MILF by this afternoon!

P.S. How do you put links to friend's blogs on your blog? Yo no se?

Jenny said...

Good Luck. Hot mom is something definately worth the hardship!

Unknown said...

I second that "You go Girl!" Suebdo said it best, listen to her, not me. My kid is asleep and I'm going downstairs for wine . . .

Anonymous said...

Way to go Sammy! We can be WW buddies -- I'm trying my hardest to stick to my points after seeing some awful pictures of myself from our last trip. Yikes! Now THAT's motivation. :) Lix

Anonymous said...

See, you've gone the logical route and attributed your increase in you due to food consumption. Me... I've blamed it on my 25 year old, poorly designed kitchen as my reason for eatting out too much and have decided on a complete kitchen remodel. I'm quite certain that just a few months after the remodel and 20k later, I should be as svelte as I've ever been. Cosmo should be calling any minute now...

And by the way, I indirectly met a photographer who is in your playgroup via her photography blog. I believe she's adopting domestically and when she saw my blog, she said she was in a playgroup with you and asked if I knew you. I said no, but I'm addicted to her blog, so does that count? Small world.

Amy said...

You go girl!!!

Anonymous said...

You did it before, and you can definitely do it again!

Best, Gail

Alleen said...

Good luck. Nothing harder than losing weight dang it. But, you have shown your inner strength, so you'll do it.

T. said...

Just make sure you don't end up looking like those size 2 moms with aftermarket-parts at the Kiddie gym that look like they need a real meal. Ironically you will be a hot mom anyway, because you are so COOL!

Anonymous said...

You *are* a hot mom. You are beautiful. I love it that you want to take care of yourself, though, and SO YOU SHOULD. I read somewhere, after J was born, that you could call yourself a parent if you'd ever consumed toddler leftovers and called it a meal. Sister, I've been there. It took me until Jacob was nearly four to make that wrenching discovery that no one was going to take care of me, no matter how well I took care of Jacob, that *I* had to wrest the time away to do it. A good friend of mine told me she really got her head back when her daughter was 9.

Go fight the good fight, my sister. You're worth it, and, ultimately, what more beautiful lesson is there to Jarrah than that a woman should love and care for herself, just as she does her child--whether or not she chooses to be a mother someday too.

Love you,

aaryn b. said...

Good for you, Sam. And if you ever want to go for a long walk up Mission Trails, give me a call. We'll buckle the girls in and speed push the strollers up and down that canyon.

Also, have to say that I feel so much better knowing that I'm not the only one who eats out/on the go ALL THE TIME.