Beginnings

Tonight, while eating a quesadilla of melted cheese and a dash of self loathing, I uploaded pictures off of my husband's camera. At some point in the last week, he had taken creepy stalker like pictures of me playing with our daughter on the back porch. Unbeknownst to me, he was snapping mommydaughter moments while Olivia and I read from her squishy fabric book in the sunshine.

He's a sweet guy like that, but it's hard to duck out of a frame or suck in the belly or lift the chin when you don't know the camera is there. So there it was -- my unsuckedin reality.

I swallowed the cheesy bit hard and realized that what I saw in my minds eye of my "post baby body" was a far cry from what was actually going on below the neckline.

I've committed and recommitted to get serious about losing the pounds and getting back to my old self but something kept getting in the way. Pelvis aching, plantar faciitus, evening appointments, travel, migraines, working late...even now, typing them all out, they sound a lot like excuses. Somewhere along the line I got wrapped up in excuses and lost my fire. I had a fire once about this, but now it's lost under a dusty gym bag gasping for breath.

So.

I believe in punctuated evolution. I remember learning about it in school and it stuck with me and seems to describe me pretty well. I gradually adapt and change to daily stressors and demands over time, but my greatest moments of learning and change has occurred in great periods of forced evolution.

I'm sensing I'm due for one now.

Sadly, not a lot of room remains for cheesy dinners of convenience or the lonely gym bag. I know what I need to commit to because I have done it before. Every day offering myself my best efforts to match my best intentions. This time will be more interesting with Baby Olivia in tow, but I have faith in the power of change.