Back to our regularly scheduled programming

Oh my lovelies - how I've missed you. Without the blog I've had nowhere to confess my deepest darkest secrets so I've taken to talking to myself even more than usual. In an effort not to look like a freak who talks to herself in public I've been walking around with a Bluetooth device in my ear.

I guess douche bag is better than freak.

The good news is that I made some great progress on my book. I'm about half way through the second draft and worked on it enough to never want to see it again which is pretty much what I was going for.

The bad news is that through my research I discovered that I'm not the only one in the world who had the brilliant idea to write a book. Most publishers have put a freeze on buying new manuscripts, especially those from new authors, so I've been looking into self-publishing.

Along with 4,000 other people a week.

That's how many books are self-published every week. Four THOUSAND. And of those the average book sells 150-200 copies. That's basically everyone who came to our wedding. So if all my extended family and college drinking buddies commit to buying a book then I'll be considered a roaring success.

In the midst of all this writing I had my 6 week postpartum check up with J.T. my trusty O.B. last week and he delivered the horrible news that I'd been dreading.

Everything looks great. Everything healed beautifully. I can resume normal activity.

The 11-month gravy train is over.

Uuuuuuuuuuugggggggggggg.

I'd forgotten how miserable it is to be held accountable for everything I ate, the overwhelming guilt the scale brings without a scapegoat and how dreadful it is to actually sweat at the gym vs. just showing up and walking around fishing for compliments about how wonderful I am that I'm at the gym even though I'm pregnant.

It's all awful.

But I have to say that I'm beyond ready to get this weight off. I never got down to my pre-Ellie pregnancy weight when I got pregnant with Lila, probably because I got pregnant with her when I was still recovering in the maternity ward.

So now that I've decided we're not having another baby until I'm 76 I have some time to slim down and have set five fitness goals for myself:

1. Don't vomit when walking up a flight of stairs
2. Get the skin on my stomach back to looking like normal skin rather than an elephant wearing a cheesecloth cummerbund filled with cake batter
3. Have one of those muscle defining lines separating my muscles in my shoulder and biceps so I'll look hot when I wear a sleeveless shirt
4. Lose 15 pounds by March 1, when Nick and I will be going on our first vacation in 500 years
5. Run the 1/2 marathon in the rock and roll marathon next October

But mainly just don't vomit when walking up a flight of stairs.

My MP3 player is loaded and I have new tennis shoes so white that Helen Keller could use them as a flashlight. Now all I need is just to get to the gym. Oh, and cut back on my box a day pancake habit.

Yup, just those two things. Two simple things.

Yup... ok, here I go. I'm going. Right... now. Going now... here I go.