Guess what? Sweet Baby Greene is 26 weeks old!
The holidays were a little too kind to me, with visits out West to see both sets of my parents in Wyoming.
We had fun mingling with my Mom’s goat herd.
My parents are lovely people, but they wined and dined Eric and I to the extreme. They made me fat. They forced homemade pasta and antelope sausages down my gullet. Don’t even get me started on the brisket or the cheese puff. Homemade chili rellenos and local made flan.
So now I am fat. It’s their fault.
I’ve watched… felt… many of my sports slipping away with each scoop of hand-cranked vanilla custard. I’m grateful I was able to mountain bike well into my pregnancy, but running evaded me early on and Zumba is my idea of Hell.
My new quest has been for activities that are easy on my aching uterus. My Mom’s water aerobics class was not. Yes, I got my ass kicked by a poolfull of old ladies.
A great workout that involves little bouncing is Cross country skiing. I’ve been getting my gear together for a couple of years now, and found some bangin’ skis for a killer price while in Wyoming. The graphics are all pixelated and weird- hence the “2nd quality” low price. I’ll take weird graphics any day for $80 (listed at $230)!
I bought some bindings (full price… WAHHHH) and, under the expert instruction of Bob and assistance of Eric, we mounted them ourselves! Admittedly easily amused, I found the process of putting the bindings on ourselves to be the most fun ever. I plan on buying more sets of skis and bindings just so I can mount them.
My new skis are the shit, and I’ve been able to scratch them up a few times.
XC is just what the belly ordered. It’s pure, full-body cardio with very little impact. As my gut becomes more pendulous, I really appreciate non-bouncy exercise.
I think I have a couple of weeks left within the bounds of my winter wear, but that’s another bonus of XC skiing- you can really wear anything that you can stretch over your large awkward body. I plan on stealing Eric’s clothes soon. I promise to post pics.
In current times, I have found that my belly pushes my pants down whilst I’m wheezing on the elliptical and my boobs pop out the sides of my swimsuit while trying to swim laps. Finding a sport that allows me to hide in the woods is a true gift.
Stay tuned for more whining from me, especially regarding swimwear. Never, EVER, take your modest one-piece for granted. You are only one pregnancy away from being betrayed by your own boobs.