My stomach spoke to me today. It said "M, I'm still wrinkly and a bit flabby. Please take care of me." Then my back fat spoke, then my thighs, and soon all of the fat in Post-Preggo Flabby Land starting piping up into my conscience and I could no longer ignore the constant nagging chatter: I needed to start taking care of myself better.

I lost all of the baby weight, and then a couple more pounds, around three months post-pregnancy. The scale, however, is the female's worst enemy. Society has trained us to believe that the scale is the standard tool by which we are to measure our health. Mentally, we all know this is bullshit. Emotionally, we cling to the numbers like pathetic needy women; if we don't see the numbers we think we should see, we do everything we can to make those numbers appear.

Numbers don't tell the whole story when it comes to post-pregnancy. I gained 40 pounds during my pregnancy and I loved every ounce of it (hello, daily cake and ice cream treat). Once Boo was born, I bloated up like a Macy's Day Parade balloon...and stayed swollen for a couple of weeks. I bought new shoes and new pants to fit my new size, wondering when I would go back to "normal." Then before I knew it, my old clothes fit. But understand this: they will never really fit the same way ever again.

Though I weigh less than I did before, my body has changed forever because of childbirth. Two words: back fat. I remember turning around in the mirror while changing one day shortly after Boo was born, doing a double take, and thinking "What the hell? Where did that come from?" My stomach is still all prune-like; quite amusing to me at times, then just disgusting at other times.

So today, as I drove home under the beautiful sunshine, I resolved to take Boo for a walk. Walk we did. During my maternity leave, I took him for walks all the time, but after going back to work our walks were few and far between. Then when I got home from our walk today, I resolved to do that more often (thankfully nicer weather is ahead...is it Spring yet?). Then after we ate dinner, I resolved to eat better and to simply exercise more. So I did some yoga poses, some ab exercises, and am now typing while eating yummy pineapple.

Let me be clear: I really don't like to exercise, or at least any type of movement that is characterized specifically as exercise. I used to like jogging once or twice a week, but that's about it. I like walks too. I love to dance around the house (especially with Boo now!). The idea of creating a schedule for working out is just laugh-out-loud ridiculous and will never happen in my life. Especially now. But I realize that I can be more responsible about it and try to do things here and there when I can, and to try to remember to eat my fruits and veggies (but I will NOT give up eating chocolate every day).

The scale doesn't tell the whole story. I forget how good I feel when I do go for walks or jogs, and when I do eat more fruit and veggies (in addition to cake and ice cream). So for Boo, and for me, I will try. I will try. I will try.