February 28, 2012

Pregnancy Workout: the STAIRS

Tackling the 77 stairs at work. I think I should nickname this pregnancy as the 77 Stair Journey. It's all I do. That, and try to figure out baby's food aversions and cravings, which is a very difficult thing to resolve, seeing as how these foods change abouuut every 13 minutes. Dang baby. These stairs are always here, don't change at all, and keep my leg muscles in constant movement. Bonus? My heart rate goes up just a tad, so I'm getting in a wee-bit of cardiovascular training in as well. Hot mess! Oh, stairs. Oh, pregnancy.

I think the mini baby bump is for real. I keep trying to deny its true existence, convincing myself and others that, although it looks like a baby (ie: uterus growing under my belly button) it's really just the result of caloric increase and decreased activity. This is fact. I am sure of it. I'm a chubby buns and I'm just going to accept it. But now? It's always there: the bump. It does grow a bit when I need to use the restroom (TMI) which just so happens to be every 30 minutes or so (TMI x2) and it shrinks when I lie down for bed on my back and suck in (score! Automatic trim waist line!). Yet, when at work, whether I just ate a loaf of french bread or not, I has meself a belly. A belly that doesn't disappear when I suck in, doesn't seem like the result of too many carbs, and a belly that may in fact be a baby. Get excited!

My knees ache. Oh stairs. And I feel my breakfast, from an hour ago, wanting to greet me. Le sigh. Stair time has come to a pause. Wouldn't it be nice if the weather report wasn't calling for snow today, and I could spend the next 10 minutes walking outside before work? Now wouldn't that be oh, so, nice. Yes, yes it would.

2 brown rice blueberry muffins with nut butter, fig jam, apple and more almond butter. oh bfast joy. or was this dinner? hm...
 PS: no work outs at home yet this week, but depression (and, well, just feeling plain blue and weak) has not tried to take over my thoughts. Praise God! I think it's from diving into the Bible, really soaking up everything I read, and rubber cementing it to my brain cells. Hmm. My belly it sticking out. Maybe this dress was a bad idea. I feel like a bloated, 11.5-week pregnant woman, who shouldn't really have a bump yet, and therefore, is simply huge and needs to jump on a treadmill.


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