Weight Loss Sabotage

I was doing great on my workouts. Julian Michaels was thoroughly kicking my sorry hide into shape. A shape I was beginning to really enjoy seeing. Then it happened...

Aunt Flo finally reared her ugly head after 6 months of no Postpartum visits. She arrived with all the evil excess baggage of migraines, bloating, cramping, sleeplessness, mood swings and feeling perpetually tired. I really did try to stick with working out, but after the first day I thought I was going to need some sort of hospitalization just to recover.

Then once I finally got Aunt flo and all her extra baggage out, I got sick. Not just a little sick either, no.. I am an overachiever and get a lingering chest cold that made me want to drag myself to the doctors for. Which was understandable since I ended up having my first asthma attack in years, but thankfully we still keep a rescue inhaler for that type of emergency. I hate the doctors though, they always want to poke me with needles and rarely do they only stab me once. All that poking and prodding would be for nothing, because I am breast-feeding and couldn't take most medications to help ease any of the symptoms without affecting my milk supply or flat-out being dangerous for my son. A visit to the doctors would be pointless and just be atrocious on top of me already feeling miserable. Instead I drank my orange juice, stayed hydrated, and tried to take it easy.

Back to the weight-loss saboteur sidekick, my dear sweet loving husband who isn't the most helpful when trying to lose weight. Sure he is a great workout buddy, but when it comes to healthy snacking it's a disaster. During this past month he has brought home ice cream sandwiches for me. (He's Lactose intolerant so none of them are for him.) Sure, they are the Skinny Cow ice cream sandwiches but that is a slippery sugary slope for me. Then next it was the Twix ice cream bar and more ice cream sandwiches. Which turned into a daily iced coffee instead of it being a weekly treat. Sweets are my weakness. Maybe he's being sneaky and vindictive after I silently giggled at him for never again attempting the 30 day shred after that first workout. Nah, he's not that spiteful and he is enjoying the results of my workouts too.

So, back to the 30 day shred I go. Maybe I'll switch it up a few days with the Zumba workout my mother's group has talked about. Back to the grind! Those goal jeans have been taunting me from the bottom of my dresser. No more self sabotage.

I love you honey, but no more ice cream sandwiches to say you love me, a hug and the real words are better for my waistline.