I got on the scale this morning and had an e-tif-a-knee. (much the same as an epihany, but with more sarcasm). If my IQ results were the same as my weight, I would be thrilled.
So why wasn't I happier when I saw that I was finally back in the same "decade" I was in pre-Murph? Infact, I'm really pretty close to where I was to start.
I read an except from a Hollywood starlet yesterday who had been receiving flack about some recent pictures showing a bit of cellulite. "We know what you ATE last summer" the mean spirited writers said. She's a size 2. By 5th grade I was a size 5.
Yesterday Murph had his 6 month checkup, and I was happy to hear he had gained 13 ounces in the last month. I had even hoped for more. Isn't it strange how our perspective can change?
I've decided to swim the English Channel. I'm not exactly sure when that will happen. And I don't really have time to start training right now. But when I do, I'm going to be prepared with the extra few pounds I haven't yet lost from the baby.