Like Shakira, My Hips Don’t Lie


Me in August 2009 (left) on vacation in North Carolina and me in August 2010 (right), where I weighed about 6 pounds less.


If my wellness were a Coen brothers movie right now it would be titled, “Oh metabolism, where art thou?”


I’ve never been one to complain about my weight or feel the need to count calories until the last couple of years. In my 20s I worked out pretty sporadically but I was always naturally thin. After I had my younger daughter, Miss A, in 2005 at the age of 35 I was thrilled to fit in a size 4 capri jeans from Old Navy. I still have those trophy post-partum jeans but they’ve been hanging in my closet for a while.


While I am not technically overweight, I have methodically gained weight over the past 5 years. Turning 40 last year didn’t help my metabolism. I am not a big fan of working out, I love to eat, and I am barely 5 ft. 2. If you’re petite like me, you know what a difference just 5 to 10 pounds can make in the way your clothes fit and the way you look in photos.


I was absolutely thrilled when Brand About Town contacted me this fall about being a brand ambassador for Wii Fit. We didn’t own a Wii and I knew it was something that my entire family would enjoy. I’d made a concerted effort earlier this year to work fitness into my daily routine, whether it be walking the dog or taking the steps at work or popping in a workout DVD, and I knew the Wii Fit would just be one more tool in my arsenal against 40-something weight gain. In September I had lost a little over 6 pounds but throwing my back out this fall and my inability to resist fun size Butterfingers after Halloween sent me back up the scales again.


I’m also trying to watch my calories, which is no fun during the holidays. I’m guilty of drinking a lot of extra calories. Yeah I know…what a surprise. I don’t like diet sodas, and last year I was drinking at least 4 to 6 regular Cokes a week, not to mention joining hubby whenever he would open a beer in the evenings. Those calories really start to add up over time. Let’s not talk about my love for wine, though, because red wine is TOTALLY therapeutic. Not. Giving. Up. Wine.

While my weight is still fluctuating (dang you holidays!), the Wii is helping me stay on task. It’s so easy on days I can’t get out and walk to crank some fun music and work out with Wii Fit. This morning I did 40 minutes of yoga and basic step aerobics.

Visit my review blog to read more about the findings of a recent American Heart Association survey documenting the motivational factor associated with Active Play video games, and check out a yummy smoothie recipe from a fun wellness gaming event I co-hosted this fall at the Hutton Hotel here in Nashville which featured a panel of inspiring speakers, including several women with harrowing stories of surviving a heart attack.

Disclosure: I’m working with Brand About Town as a Nintendo Wii Fit ambassador. I was sent a Wii and Wii Fit to use for myself and my family, although I sometimes have to fight with my girls just to use it! I co-hosted a fun Nintendo Wii/American Heart Association event in October here in Nashville with Lindsay from Suburban Turmoil and Brandi from Brandi and Boys where we learned more about the long-term health benefits of exercise and proper diet and listened to a motivating talk by author Hank Wasiak about asset-based thinking.

Happy Cute Babies Are Evil, Resist

The mind of the rapidly approaching 40 female is a landmine of hormones, irrational thoughts, and fleeting whimsy. Or maybe that’s just me.

Although I have absolutely zero desire to have another baby (and the hubby is right beside me), my biological clock is grabbing on to the coattails of my fertility and digging in its heels.

Maybe it’s Mother Nature’s way of making sure, really sure, you’re not going to help populate the Earth any more. Perhaps it’s the hormone version of beer goggles, that state of inebriation wherein everyone looks a thousand times more attractive after knocking back a few longnecks. Well, hormone goggles? I’ve got you covered.

I think part of the issue is that clichéd heart wrenching realization that my baby, Miss A, will be 4 soon and I can barely talk about it without crying. Last night she told me she wanted me to buy Barbie and the Diamond Castle “natkins” and Power Ranger “natkins” for her party at daycare. I mean is that the cutest thing ever? Sob. It also doesn’t help that every other woman of child-bearing age at my company has either popped out a kid or is about to pop out a kid.

Every Monday I take Miss C to dance class for her hour of tap and jazz. I usually sit in the waiting area fiddling with my iPhone or chatting with the other parents, mostly moms. One mom to three little ones has the most adorable rosey cheeked strawberry blonde headed toothless baby girl you’ve ever seen. Seriously, this baby gives me total pregnancy amnesia. I don’t even WANT to have another baby but looking at her makes my ovaries swoon from the sheer unbridled cuteness. As I was commenting on this baby’s total cuteness the other day while her mom held her on her lap and made her grin her toothless smile, the mom looked at me and asked, “Are you done?”

“Oh yes,” I  replied. “I’m done. We’ve taken certain measures and we are definitely done.”

A few minutes later the mom carried her baby over to the observation window where parents can scope out the class. Her little boy, who is 20 something months old, was playing at the small table next to me. Suddenly he looked up at  me, pointed to his bottom and half asked, proclaimed with a pacifier hanging out of his mouth: “Poo poo?”

And then I smiled at him and said, “You have a poo poo? Go see your mama! She’s over there!”

Yep, I am so done.

Mrs. Shields Goes to Washington

Now that we know she’s got a great sense of a humor, on a more serious note, actress Brooke Shields went to Capitol Hill this week, pushing Congress to pass the “Mother’s Act,” legislation introduced by Sen. Robert Menendez, D-N.J., that would provide funding for education, screening, treatment, and research for postpartum depression.

What do you think? Is it the government’s role to step in and help fund education about postpartum depression? If not, whose role is it? Why can’t the medical community focus as much on new parents’ mental health as they do newborn care? I mean sure, you’ll be the best parent on the block if you know how to operate one of those plastic bulb snot suckers they send home with, but what about advice for transitioning into your new role as a parent? What about some frank affirmation that you might not really love being a parent the first few weeks? I certainly don’t remember any child birth class material or nurses telling me to take all the help we could get and run with it like it was the last pack of newborn Pampers on the planet.

Thankfully I was advised during the final weeks of my first pregnancy that being a “mommy martyr” was a bad idea and that despite all the commercials I’d seen on TV through the years, babies weren’t all sunshine, lullabies, and cooing. There were long dark nights of marathon pacing and bouncing, making up incoherent lullabies because I’d run out of words, and serious critical analysis of bowel movements. Like so many mothers before me, I relied on the sage advice of my mother, my mother-in-law, my sisters, and girlfriends who were already mothers. But what about mothers who don’t have family or who are isolated from friends and family? Maybe they’re a single mom or maybe their spouse is in the military and stationed abroad? I realize how fortunate we are to have a support system and both sets of grandparents nearby.

I don’t really think I had true post-partum depression, but for someone who is a former anal retentive planner and perfectionist, motherhood slam dunked me into a guessing game that made me doubt my parenting abilities. You can have everything in your baby’s nursery color coordinated, but you can’t really anticipate what those early weeks of parenthood will really be like. Will your baby sleep all day and stay up all night? Will they chill out in their bouncy seat or freak out? Will they find soft classical music soothing, or will they prefer the white noise of the vacuum cleaner? Or, like Caitlin and Amelia, will they love the sound of the hair dryer? Yes, even as babies the girls loved anything remotely related to primping.

I had an unexpected emergency c-section with Caitlin. I was physically wiped out and was anemic due to losing so much blood, my incision was very painful the first two weeks or so, and my body was like a freak show game of hormone Russian Roulette. Things got easier and easier and before I knew it I’d mastered taking Caitlin to the grocery store all by myself. Oh sure, you can laugh, but if you’ve ever been a rookie parent, you know what I’m talking about. By the time Amelia came along I was more prepared, relaxed, and I didn’t pack a 20-pound diaper bag stocked with every infant remedy from our medicine cabinet every time we left the house.

Life in the motherhood is great, but don’t be afraid to ask for help. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad parent.

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