Two things I need to admit here today. 1/ working out is not doing a darn thing for me. I started this blog as a way to track my efforts and keep myself committed to working out, but after almost three months of two hours a week (minimum) at the gym and many other hours a week of tossing babies and three year olds around (safely, of course), I have to admit that my body is just giving up on me. I actually took my measurements today to mimic the first ones I posted in "Ten Months Out" and was dismayed to see that I have not only lost no weight, but I have gained a half a pound at this morning's weigh in-- and I have also lost no inches. Well, here and there maybe a half an inch, but I could have been sucking in...
Now I know some of you are going to read this and give me the pep-up of "don't worry- it will happen" or "maybe you should step it up a bit?" (this IS stepped up!) Or what's even worse: "well, you're doing this for your health you know-- your body is going to be what it is, given the four kids you've had". Seriously, I don't like you for saying that. Not at all.
I did make JMahl poke my belly to see how hard it was, but his facial expression wasn't quite as impressed as I was hoping it would be. Oh well, such is (my) life. I can say that it's nice to get some reading in (yes, I read on the treadmill as I walk quickly uphill for 30 minutes) and that my back doesn't hurt quite as much as it used to, so there is some improvement. But for those of you who were waiting impatiently for me to post half-naked sexy, in shape, bikini photos of myself- well, you'll just have to wait a bit longer.
Granted, I haven't changed my eating habits at all-- and working out tends to make me very hungry... so that may be part of my problem. Or maybe all of it?
So that's my first admission. The second admission is that I am sexist. And not just sexist, but a hypocritical sexist. Now, some of you may have heard this rant before, but it's especially applicable today because of my experience at the gym yesterday.
I walked into the daycare to pick up my kids, soaked in sweat and exhausted, and I hear the daycare provider say "put that down, Mason". My next three thoughts were as follows:
1/ I brought Mason today?
2/ Oh, of course not... but isn't it funny that the daycare provider also gets my kids' names confused?
3/ Wait-- how does she know I have a Mason? Oh- it must be another child.
So, having figured that out, I walk on in and ask her which of the kids is Mason since, as I explained to her, I have a Mason at home.
She points to a group of children playing a few feet away. "Oh, the little red-haired boy?"
No- the blond one.
I don't see a blond boy.
Not the boy, the girl.
What? A girl Mason? Yes, I've heard that Mason can be a girl's name. But hearing it and coming face to face with the reality of it... well, that was a shocker. A cute, fat, little blond Mason- with long curls and a vagina. That did not make me happy.
And this is where my hypocrisy comes in. Yes, I am fully aware that Kolbie (Colby) is a boy's name historically. And that Micah is a boy's name Biblically. But it is one thing for me to give my girl's masculine names. It is a completely different matter for my boy to have a name that might perhaps be construed as a feminine name. And I know, I know. Those of you out there who have boys named [Colby] or Micah may not appreciate the feminization (sp?) of these names as I have done, but come on! At least Kolbie has a "ie" ending to it-- Julie, Carrie, Mary, Kolbie... it works. And Micah...well, let's be honest here, you don't get much more feminine than an "a" sound on the end of a name-- ask the vast majority of DeMeritt men whose wives have names that end in "A"... Barbara, Linda, Tamara, Claudia, Lorinda, Lana, Angela (and dare we hope, Laura???) But MASON is all boy. I mean, it actually says SON in it-- why would you name your daughter SON?
So, shooting angry glares at the little girl- yes, I'm going to take it out on her since I don't yet know who her parents are-- I left the playroom, fuming and wondering if it was too late to change my dear son's name to something irrevocably masculine. Like Grayson (which was a discussion 7.5 years ago until I over-analyzed that it could be somewhat awkward to name my half black- half white son "Gray-son") or Bob. (oops, my Grandma's nickname was "Bobbie").
Let's be honest-- no names are safe anymore. Last year a local politician was campaigning in my neighorhood- she got my vote and I bought a copy of her book, all because her name was Trent. A female Trent-- imagine that. So why does it bother me so much that my son may one day be confused as female and yet not bother me that my daughters may be confused as male?
I guess that's where the sexism comes in- and probably, according to my husband, some necessary therapy. At least I can admit my faults.