I, Sarah, attended my first session of burn your face off, seventh dimension of hell, 90 minute, hotter than hot yoga last night. This session, and my recent purchase of a treadmill, mark the beginning of my quest to burn, run, sweat, and hopefully cut the baby weight right off my body. I figure, Joey is no longer living in my body, so it shouldn't look like he is. I remember looking at my mom (who went with me) during our 90 minute sweat session, with this sense of helplessness (and please save me because I am for sure dying) and admiring her for producing not one, but two children. I NEVER want to go through this baby weight thing again, EVER, and I have a new found respect for those who do it more than once.
I don't know if I imagined that the 600 ice cream sandwiches, 26 thousand cheeseburgers and kazillion donuts would just melt off my body after Joey was born, or what. But I was clearly smoking a bunch of drugs as I consumed all of those things without a single thought to what I would do with myself and the 60 pounds I put on during my pregnancy after he was born. I was out of my mind crazy. And now I am here with 20 pounds to lose to get back to "pre-pregnancy." Ugh, barf.
In a purely sadistic and douchey thought of "hahaha," as I was suffering through this yoga b.s., Rick was having a grand ole time with our teething child. The text I received while I was in the alternate dimension read; "Get bread and creamer please, and a baby that isn't an asshole." Rick and I were both suffering and, I think, appropriately so.