I am obese.
Now, wait, before you object, hear me out.
Last year, at the beginning of the pregnancy, I weighed 143. Two and a half months after giving birth, I weigh 154. Through the power of estrogen, I can hear two different reactions going on out there:
1) Pfft. That ain't nuttin'! I weighed 154 in kindergarten!
2) Gasp! I can't believe she just revealed her weight.
I'm going to derail for a second:
Why is the number such a SECRET if people can already see you and what shape and size you are?? Hello! Does the number really matter when it comes to appearance???
Back on track:
This week, my friend Aubrey measured me on her magical scale, which is how I found out how much I weigh, among other statistics about the sexy thing you know as Adhis. I don't care about the weight number since it doesn't distinguish what the weight is from (water, fat, muscle, hair), but I can tell that I lost a lot of muscle throughout my stagnant pregnancy. Also, my midsection looks like soft-serve ice cream that's getting softer and is slumping over the rim of a sugar cone, which, incidentally, is how I got a midsection that resembles aforementioned soft serve. (Mmmmmm... ice cream...)
So, what I *am* concerned with is my body composition: how much of my body is muscle or fat. Excess fat taxes the functions of the body and immune system and contributes to stress, illness and sluggishness, among other things. I'm not a fan of any of those.
Aubrey's magical scale told me what percentage of my body weight comes from fat: 34%. ONE THIRD of my body is fat. (Perhaps, I'll change my blog title to "A little bit Adhis, a WHOLE LOT a-that.") I was only familiar with Body Mass Index (BMI) (which, BTW, is going the way of the dodo) so, I was unsure at the time where 34% fell on the health spectrum. Being made of 1/3 of fat doesn't sound good when you take into account my body is also composed of bones, flesh, water, and charming personality, but who knows? Google did.
After a little internet search, I found that comparing BMI and fat percentage is like comparing apples to doctors. Wait-- that's a different blog entry. It's like comparing apples to Symphony bars (the one with extra toffee bits and almonds). (Mmmmm... Symphony bars...) I knew this already but had forgotten. (Don't tell my college fitness class instructor.) Anyway, it turns out that the body fat % charts I found online state that 34% is obese! This means only one thing: Aubrey's magical scale is actually a witch and must be burned at the stake!! (Mmmmm... steak...)
I'll admit I was a bit disconcerted when I found I had entered the obese classification, but thought "good to know!" Then, I remembered I just had a baby and am nursing. Yes, I do actually still forget those crucial things; I'm new to the club. I couldn't find a chart that takes these things into account. Does anyone know anything about that? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?
I'm not making excuses for myself, I'm just big-boned. It's hereditary; I have the gene for caramelholicism. I'm just a full-figured girl with more junk in the trunk. I'm large and in charge! I put the fat in PHAT and that's where it's at! Eat, drink and be merry! (If I missed any of the other commonly-spouted excuses, please let me know because I'm sure it is also a reason for my current state.)
My doctor gave me the green light to work out about 3 weeks ago. I started walking and jogging and then a little injury I had been ignoring for 6 weeks started nagging for attention. I *think* I sprained my ankle a month and a half ago, but I don't remember anymore as I was maneuvering around my house with little to no sleep. I vaguely remember thinking something about something (am I being too specific?) being off in my ankle as I was walking down the stairs one day. Anyhoo, what has ensued in my attempt to "walk it off" may remind you of a song from childhood. Sing it with me!
"The sprained ankle is connected to the tight calf, the tight calf is connected to the achy knee, the achy knee is connected to the burning thigh, the burning thigh is connected to the pained hip, the pained hip is connected to the bad back!" Catchy little tune, ain't it? I bet you'll be singing it the rest of the day.
So what if I hurt my ankle while sneaking down to the kitchen at 2am to finish a carton of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and a pound of Twizzlers. I've just always been this way! Plus, I was just pregnant. Never mind that my placenta was basically a blob of cake batter complete with candles and sprinkles. Don't get me wrong, I do SOME exercise. I jog whenever I hear the ice cream man and I have to speed-strip my couch for enough change to score a strawberry eclair ice cream bar before he leaves the neighborhood. (BTW, when did the ice cream man start driving so fast? I'm not a freakin' Olympic sprinter, Mr. Good Humor Man!)
Anyway, I'm not worried about my current state, but I know my mom reads this blog (I see you, Mom!) and she and my dad will be worrying about their newly obese daughter. Mom, remember that I did just have a baby-- your cute granddaughter. I *am* exercising just not at the intensity and frequency I want to yet. I am also carrying more fat to feed your cute granddaughter! I'm fine! I don't need you to stop by with special foods (unless they're double-churned and drizzled with strawberry sauce)! And if you do drop by, don't be alarmed if I start drooling when I look at you. I'm probably just hallucinating and see you like this:
[Posted song: "Fat Mama" by Herbie Hancock]
Update: I still haven't found a body fat % chart for postpartum, but I did find an age-adjusted chart. For my age and gender group, I am Overweight. Well, duh. But I guess that's better news than before.