October 20, 2009

You don't notice you have them, until they're gone

I never, absolutely never did abs in my entire life. I mean, I did not purposely do abs But it does not mean I did not have any. In fact, there are not many parts of my body I like, but as it happens, my belly, or rather, my abs were one of them. That's the beauty of doing sports because you like it, instead of hitting the gym to work on your looks: you get the results, without the boredom. Running using my core, climbing overhangs, cycling up passes: trust me , that's the best way of getting a six-pack without once even knowing the meaning of "sit-ups".

So I never thought about my abs, and just took them for granted. Until, that is, 7 weeks and 6 days ago. Then something happened which changed my view on abs forever: I gave birth.

Two weeks later, I was below my pre-pregnancy weight, had my flat(ish) belly again, and it seemed life would resume as before. Except for one thing: flabiness. It very quickly became clear my abs were gone. Completely gone. The six-pack had been replaced by a massive jelly bean of a belly. Yak.

Of course, I could get back on the bike or head out for a 12-miler, and everything would soon be as it used to. Sure, except for two things: how do you fit a 7-week old on a racing-bike (I mean, we did buy a bike-trailer, of course, but even I, the crazy one, would not dream about putting a new-born in it)? And the 12-miler does not seem like the smartest thing to do when all your organs feel like they are doing the mambo-jambo inside your belly, as soon as you start a jog, let alone a proper run, precisely because of the jelly-bean issue.

Some tell me I should see things on the bright side, and be content to have, as a result of becoming a mum, sure, a jelly belly, but also boobs twice the size they used to be. But you'll have to admit, if your role model is Paula Radcliffe rather than Pamela Anderson, abs rather than a C-cup is the way to go. Of course, Malo would probably disagree.


Lucile said...
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Lucile said...

Avec mes 8kg en trop, 7 mois après le D-Day, je peux te dire que ton bidon, c'est de la gnognotte ! Il me fait marrer le petit renflement microscopique qui te tient lieu de bouée ! Petite joueuse, va !

J'ai repris une petite activité physique, je ferai un bilan vers mars. Là, je fais l'autruche chaque fois que je croise un miroir, sinon c'est la déprime totale ! C'est dur d'être patiente...