Tit Pit Roll

Today I went bra shopping. Woot, right? Woot is right. I've got BFT aka Big Fat Titties. And not only do I have BFT, as usual, I have Post Mommy BFT.

I admit. I'm a chronic bra abuser. I'm not really sure what my actual bra size is or has ever been. I know it changes frequently, like weekly, depending on the rationale of my period of the time. Today I googled "bra size" to find out how big the BFTs are today. Well, some lady named Linda has a magic boob calculator. She says that I have 33DD titties! 33DD people! What is that about?! First of all, when did my rib cage shrink? Not that I'm complaining. The DD part though, well that's concerning.

For the record-you don't see "33DD" at Kohl's or JCP. If it comes in a DD, they assume you have like a 40" rib cage for a minimum. So I settled for the 34D and 36D. Well I don't know about that lady Linda's calculator but 36 it is kids. Or maybe it isn't because I was horrified at what the mirror reflected back. For the record-no, it wasn't a circus mirror. The poor 11 year old girl trying on bras for the first time in the next stall got a peek into her future by the noises coming out of my mouth.

At one point, I looked in the mirror horrified. Exactly what is that weird skin above the bra before my arm pit?! I've never seen that before. It's scary than the first time you realize that you have a muffin top. I did what I do whenever something horrifies me and makes me laugh-I took a picture and sent it to Racho. Racho informed me that this is a "tit pit roll" best cured by bench presses at the gym. Racho, my ego says GFY. My reality says thank you.

I bought my nude colored giagantasorus old lady bras. On the drive home, I was hysterical. This is what I've let myself turn into?! So unsatisfied with my physical changes that I'm buying nude giant bras I'm embarrassed to hold in line?! I've slacked like this?! I've rationalized away my health like this?! Yes, I did some old fashion guilt n shame on myself. It's a proven effective tool in my business. :) Ok, it's not but still. I did. I cried. And I silenced myself with my Mom's help.

Damn it, I can do this. Remember 2007? Remember Size 14 engagement photos? Remember my Dad asking me, "Honey, are you in the family way?" when he noticed my weight. (For the record, he really thought that Ryan and I got engaged because I was pregnant when he saw me. He will NEVER live that down.) I digress. Anyway, 2007. I did it. I found Size 6 in a year. I can do it again.

Before you "yeah but" and approve of the rationalization of my tit pit roll and my muffin top,stop yourself. To rationalize away reality isn't accepted by me if you are my client. It doesn't work in my own head either.

"You just had a baby."

"It's hard, you are busy."

"You commute."

"You are getting older."

"Give yourself time."

None of that will be tolerated because we all know it's just not true. Look how much I'm on Facebook. Really.

Last night (coincidence?) I flipped open that horrifying Parenting magazine. (not a proud subscriber, it was an accident and I'm too lazy to call to cancel.) Well get this-There is something helpful in it! There was a jump start mommy work out.

Welcome to my blog. This is really my diary of "Good bye Fat #2." You are included because I want your support and accountability. Here's how this will play out-

Tonight, after I beat myself up on the car ride home, threw the bras at Ryan and some how convinced Lena to go to bed, I whipped out that magazine.

Here's the plan people:

Week 1:

-10 minute strength work out that I can do in my living room 3 nights a week.

-10 minutes of something besides sitting on the off days

Week 2:

-20 min same as above

Week 3:

-30 min same as above

All that brought to you by the cheesy Parenting magazine.

I figure once I hit the 30 minute habit again, I'm home free to lifting weights like a junkie at the gym n racing myself on the treadmill.

So why do I tell you about my fat-less girl plan? Because I want you to cheer me on n hold me accountable!

Live in my zip code? Call me, ask me to go for a walk (if it's above 30.)

Don't live here? Just join me in this bloggie thingie to keep me in line. I figure, hey, I love to write and sometimes I'm good at it. It will be my reward. If I do my work out, I will post afterwards. Feel free to humiliate me (on here only) if I don't post. Shoot, feel free to humiliate me I do post. I need your support and I love the guilt n shame. I mean positive feedback.