Wednesday, October 19, 2011


Last month when I had my appointment with the midwives, I weighed myself in the bathroom, as we're supposed to each time. I had already steeled myself for the expected increase of a few pounds, so I was especially confused when the scale was telling me I actually weighed 10 pounds less than last time. My last weigh-in had been only a month before - ten pounds is a lot to lose in that time. Not to mention that I have pretty much maintained that exact same weight (not counting my pregnancy with Sly) for a couple years. So I was incredibly skeptical. I slid the weights back to zero, and tried again. I still got the same number. When I met with the midwife, I explained that the scale must be broken! She looked over my weight chart, and agreed that it couldn't possibly be right.

Now, I've been trying to convince myself that it's just my imagination, but for the past few weeks when I look in the mirror, I feel like...I don't have as many rolls in the middle as I once did! haha. My clothes feel like they fit the way they did during college. Every day, though, I tell myself it couldn't be true. This morning, after looking in the mirror and feeling pretty convicted that I was, in fact, a bit thinner, I decided to confirm things once and for all. I dug out our own bathroom scale (which I have literally been hiding from myself for over a year, because it was always so depressing to step on it!), and stepped on. I really did lose 10 pounds!! What the heck?!

The only time in my life that I ever lost weight unintentionally was this one month when I was really stressed out all the time, and it affected my appetite. But nothing like that was the case this time. I definitely still eat the same less-than-healthy diet I always have. The only thing I can think of as a cause is the "Active For Life" competition Tom and I participated in through his job this summer. You had to set an activity goal for yourself, and try to reach it each week. My goal was incredibly modest: 30 minutes of activity, 5 days a week. Besides two 20-minute jogs, and a couple hour-long bikerides, the only activity I did to reach my goal was to go for walks. SLOW walks, with baby in tow. And most weeks, I just scraped by with meeting my goal. It doesn't make sense to me, really. I mean, there was a time when I used to go for runs. Every day. For a minimum of 30 minutes. And I wasn't dropping the pounds then!

I'm still not sure if that's it, but it's the only explanation I can think of. If I had known that walking could be so good for me, I would've started doing it much sooner! I'm definitely motivated now to keep it up!

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