Thanks for reading, liking, and sharing my blog this year. It’s been great to write and hear back from many of you; letting us know we’re not fucking up, or that you do the same thing. I’ve rounded up the Top 3 posts of 2017 in case you’ve finished scouring the depths of the internet and need something else to read. I have some guest posts coming your way in the new year which I know you’ll enjoy. Can’t wait to see what 2018 brings!
If you’ve been following me on Instagram for a while now, you may have seen the occasional post about my attempts at weight loss. It hasn’t been pretty, nor really all that successful. My best results were about 6 months before the wedding, it lasted all of a month and then I ate my way through Christmas and worked a bunch of night shifts. BAM. All the progress was gone. When we got the wedding pictures, there were a few pictures that I was disappointed in. Because of the weight *I* could see. Overall I was still pleased with the images. I forced myself to look past the things I noticed and focus on how great we all looked. How the plans I made had turned out perfectly.
So I started working out and eating healthy again that fall, and made a real push in November/December. I remember standing in the gym, mid-work, and trying not to cry because I looked worse than I ever had. Why?! I couldn’t figure it out; I had been working out daily, eating well, TRYING GOD DAMMIT!!! It took some commitment to finish that workout as hard as I’d started it. The next day I found out I was pregnant.
Well, that would explain a few things.
I tried to stay active (successful only up to about 20 weeks) and then a desk job, a stressful house selling/buying experience, and a lifelong lack of any self control meant I gained more weight than I wanted to deal with. This may not make sense, given my love of sport, but I HATE exercising. I HATE it. The only thing I hate more than that is eating salads, followed up closely by chicken breasts and pretty much any vegetables.
You see my problem now right?
So, I gave it some effort on my maternity leave, not a great effort mind you, but I tried. I just couldn’t find the motivation. I tried the ketogenic diet, and saw some progress, but if I broke the diet, even just for a small treat, I’d end up bloating out so bad I looked 7 months pregnant again. I’d be uncomfortable, unhappy, frustrated. So I opted to only “diet” Mon-Fri during the summer. This didn’t help me lose any weight, but I didn’t gain any more weight, and have stayed fairly consistent, occasionally dipping down, with only very mild peaks. Very little actual exercise, but whatever.
After going back to work, I had plans of working out on my lunch break every day. Turns out when I hammer out a workout and shower and rush back into my work clothes, I end up sweating for the rest of the day and that’s horribly uncomfortable. I’ll keep trying to do it, but mostly at lunch time, I just want to eat lunch.
Some things I know are: I did not get chunky because I had a baby. I got chunky because I have no self control, hate exercise, and love eating out. I also think I might be developing some level of dairy intolerance. But like anything not related to Callahan, I will turn a blind eye to it until it impacts my life negatively enough to consider not eating cheese. I mean seriously, cheese!
We’ll see what happens. In general I’m mostly indifferent to the extra weight, because my boobs are still bigger than they have ever been (not perky but, you win some- you lose some). I have slowly made it back into a few items of clothing; tighter than they were when they “fit properly” but its something. And when I can’t fit into something? I get upset, for like 5 minutes and then I move on. They are just clothes, it’s just a phase. I’ll get there eventually… probably… maybe… I write this surrounded by piles of empty halloween candy wrappers. One good thing that comes from gaining MORE weight? I look at those wedding pictures and think I looked AH-MAZING. Funny how that works.
Tyler and Mum keep asking me what I want to do for my birthday. It’s this week, and I’m turning 30. I’m pretty indifferent to turning 30 and my birthday in general. I only make any reference to it in the hopes I get to go out for dinner. This year Tyler will be hunting on the weekend of my birthday. At first I was pissed. Like seriously? WTF BRO?! But I don’t have the passion to be indignant about it *insert shoulder shrug here*.
I feel like things have changed in the last few years, and that we don’t seem to panic as much about turning 30 as we used to. I certainly don’t care. It’s not weird or stressful to me. Maybe its because I’ve reached all those traditional milestones; I have a degree, a home, a baby, wedding rings that don’t fit and a few trips under my widening belt. It would be fair to conclude that those are the reasons I’m okay with it. But I’ve never really made a big deal over any age. And I feel like I’m just too fucking lazy to get upset about those sorts of things.
Turning 16 didn’t mean I could suddenly drive (hello “L” and “N” licenses); also, it was the age I was allowed to start dating. Despite what my Dad keeps saying, I DID stick to that rule. When I turned 18 I didn’t suddenly start buying cigarettes and watching porn (I’d been doing that for yearssssss haha JK); turning 19 was just as anticlimactic, as I didn’t drink and wouldn’t drink for a few more years (I know, what a waste). Just after I turned 21 I went to New York on my first trip with a friend and had a drink, something super sugary I’m sure. Ages 22-24 I could never remember how old I was, and said I was 21 for 2 years before I realized my mistake.
I mean, they are just numbers after all; when 14 year olds look more put together and attractive than I do at 29, does it really matter any more? There’s no pressure to have your shit under control by a certain age. Mostly because “under control” is a lie. On average, people get married (for the first time) in their late twenties to early thirties. More first time moms are in their 30’s than their 20’s. No one can afford a fucking house, let alone save for retirement or even pay off their student loans. So, I think people just don’t care. Soon there will be no shame in being a 40 year old virgin living in your parents basement with a sexbot.
Lately I don’t make plans for my birthday because I’m traveling. I was traveling back from Peru on my birthday, celebrating in the airport with a chocolate bar from my travel buddies. I’ve sat on a patio at an Irish pub in Paris and watched a protest make its way down the street. I’ve been in Waikiki getting a surprise spa morning followed up with some time on the North Shore. Okay, so 3 out of 30 birthdays I’ve been traveling. But I think I have an idea for a new arrangement in honour of my birthday. It’s much cheaper and I don’t expect to get any push back.
For each weekend Tyler is away for anything other than work, I get a full weekend of sleeping in. Earplugs, Eyemask, Sleeping pills if necessary, baby monitor on his side of the bed. Eh, Fuck it. I’m going to take it a step further and sleep in the spare room.
Can you tell I’m a mom? When my greatest desire for a “big” birthday is to sleep like I’m dead. Tyler will probably find out about this arrangement when I post this, because you know, hunting season. To be fair, Tyler usually makes some really great birthday celebrations for me. Mostly spa days followed up with a delicious meal. How can you go wrong with that? We went out this weekend with some friends and family for some cheap Mexican food and terrible karaoke, I’m not pregnant so I wanted to make the most of being able to drink (and I did). It was a solid night, despite the fact that we started the day with a domestic because it *appeared* Tyler had made no effort for my birthday. Turns out he has, but is keeping things close to his chest.
What is the most ridiculous thing you’ve asked for, for your birthday? Or better yet, what’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever DONE on your birthday?! I’m trying to think of the most ridiculous thing I ever did on/for my birthday. The only thing I can think of is for one birthday I wore a strapless dress (10/10 would do me); but in every picture I look nakey, nakey, nakey. For my birthday, how about you make us all laugh and comment below with your “best” birthday story!
Edit- this weekend I twerked on stage at El Nopal while Klinger knocked Juvenile’s “Back that Ass Up” outta the park. Ridiculous? Yes, ridiculously good. 😉 Yay for 30!!