Posts Tagged ‘ boobs ’

A New Workout That Fits

Sunday, March 9th, 2014

I failed in my initial New Year’s resolution to get in shape. My reasons were legit. But even when I tried to get back in the saddle, it was disastrous. A friend suggested Pop Physique. I was too lazy to look it up online. So I didn’t. Clearly my motivation was hitting a low. Then she sent me an email with a Groupon for the one in my neighborhood. You know how those Groupons are: HURRY OR YOU WILL MISS OUT FOR THE REST.OF.YOUR.LIFE. As Groupons usually do, the “sale” only lasted 24 hours. I nearly got divorced when I bought meat from a door-to-door salesman. I jump when under pressure. So of course the urgency of the Groupon made me bite. Luckily in this instance, the stars were aligned.

Before I wrote this blog I figured I should make sure Pop Physique is all over the country so if you feel inspired, you’ll check it out. However, it’s not. Only in Los Angeles. But don’t go WTF yet. I have another option for anyone who is interested. The Bar Method is apparently really similar, and that’s everywhere.

Pop Physique uses a small ball and light weights combined with repetition and small movements to basically kick your ass. Or abs. Or thighs. It’s hard, but there is no impact so I’m not worrying about injury while flailing myself around. There were times my limbs were shaking to the point that I wondered if my body was self-inducing a seizure. I was assured it was not and that this is normal.

The overall “technique” as they call it basically combines aspects of crossfit, yoga, boot camp, weight lifting and aerobics all in one. I think it’s nearly the perfect mom workout. The studio I went to was clearly founded and run by women. It was so organized and clean. They even offer childcare for some of the classes. The Bar Method might too. I was sweating but not dripping like I do in my loathed Bikram class. The stretching part at the ballet bar was great. It made me want a small ballet bar in my house. I’m already thinking it could be another solution to my evening mom blahs. I could stretch, and my monkey kids could hang. I am going to present it to Phil after a night where he has at least 2 glasses of wine…though I’m fairly certain he will say that me on a ballet bar without professional supervision will prove cataclysmic.

In the meantime I am committed to getting my pre-baby stomach back. Not to mention everything else. Hopefully it will help my slouchy posture too, which in turn helps my stomach. Too bad there’s no solution for shrunken post-baby boobs. Or at least no natural solution. Remember, I live in LA–land of the fake. But everything I’m doing is real. And that’s exciting–even if it’s well past the New Year.

 

Cartoon characters exercising via Shutterstock

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Why I Liked My Mammogram

Friday, July 12th, 2013

I’ve never been so excited to get a mammogram. Not because it’s at all fun. Not because I want to get it over with due to my-hypochondia-that-makes-my-head-spin-at-night-over-the-alleged-tumors-growing-in-my-body-that-will-leave-my-kids-motherless. No, I was excited because I got to be in the car for 15 minutes. Alone. Then in the waiting room for 15 minutes. Alone. I was actually hoping they were running late. I brought the paper just in case. Then I had another 15 minute drive home. Alone.

It’s the same reason I love getting stuck in traffic in Los Angeles–which is not hard to do. But only if I’m alone.

It’s my time. I can listen to NPR, not Elmo. I can talk on the phone, not scream at my kids to stop screaming.  I don’t have to keep them awake with my own terrible vocal chords by botching Old MacDonald so they won’t fall asleep and screw me on the afternoon nap.

I know every parent can relate to what I’m saying so my words are nothing new. In fact, my friend and fellow blogger Jill Simonian has started to take naps in her car. She took a video of how it’s done. I’ve done it once myself and it felt great.

But back to my boobs. I had to wait 7-months after breastfeeding to get this routine mammogram done. And while I know I’m all over the place here–and I wrote recently about the sad state of my boobs–I actually do have a question. I seem to still have a tingling sensation at times. I wouldn’t call it a sharp pain, or even the “letdown” but it comes and goes, mostly in my left boob. The technician thought that was fairly common. Is it?

Do any of you who have stopped breastfeeding for a while still experience a tingling feeling intermittently throughout the day? Because if not, it is one more thing for me to spin over.

Maybe this is too much information. But in light of the Holly McNish video poem–which I hope you all have watched–I figure I may as well start an adult discussion about boobs that is more meaningful than a tacky billboard full of them (if you’re confused as to what I’m referencing, watch the link above).

Now, if my mammogram comes back with problems, I will eat this post. All of it. Until then, I’m standing by my delightful mammogram excursion.

 

Pic of mammogram machine via Shutterstock

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Toddler Tuesday: No Boobs, Just Babies

Tuesday, May 15th, 2012

My controversial boob post caused me to miss Fia Friday. Gasp. I’m sure all of you are waiting with bated breath to see pictures of my children.  And while they aren’t nearly as interesting as the boob stories, (including Time Magazine’s) I can emphatically say they are prettier. Especially when Wayne Sanchez is involved.

My Cat Has No Boundaries

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Post-Maternity Shopping

Wednesday, March 21st, 2012

Suzy and Jill

Illustration courtesy of Suzy Ultman

My best friend from 9th grade came into town this weekend. She left last night. Whenever I have visitors, everything else, including the small routine I’ve started to establish, goes out the window. It drives me a little crazy, but on the other hand, it’s important for me to connect with my friends. Because Suzy and I are so close, she knows all this and I’m not hurting her feelings. So my blog and bills sat still. We, on the other hand, ran all over town shopping, having playdates, etc.

She’s a graphic designer/illustrator and has a good eye for a lot of things, including clothes. My sad wardrobe consists of sweat pants, old tank tops, and overly worn maternity clothes. Needless to say, I haven’t felt attractive in a long time. The thing is, I hate shopping. Despise it actually. Until I get there and start trying things on. Then, when clothes start to work, and do their magic, I get into it. Sort of.

Suzy dragged me to The Grove here in LA. I didn’t want to spend a whole day away from Emmett, but I did. He survived. As did I. My boobs on the other hand were quite difficult.

As we shopped they got bigger and bigger. So the clothes got smaller and smaller. I had a hand pump with me, but I only wanted to use it once. (More on why in this post here). I over-explained to every clerk why something was too tight. As if they care. At one store I walked out to show Suzy and the dude my jeans. She pointed out that my shirt was hiked up over my bra and my boob was inching out. Somehow things go array in my frantic and frenzied state these days.

“Oh, sorry,” I said, still not pulling my shirt down, as Suzy pointed out later. “I have a baby, so modesty has been thrown out. I don’t care what the world sees. What do you guys think of the jeans?” Luckily he had a 3-year old and understood.

Over lunch we laughed at how, despite 30 years of knowing each other, not much has changed. Except instead of using our mom’s credit cards, we now have to use our own. And instead of putting on makeup in the bathroom, I’m pumping.

At the end of the day I had a new spring/summer wardrobe, mostly things found on sale, as I think the sizes are still a bit transitional, depending on how my body bounces back. I’m sure my boobs will shrink to nearly nothing when breastfeeding is over. Sigh.

We hurried home at 4; I fed Em and fell asleep with him in my arms. Happy, and now, if not attractive, at least getting there.

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A Primate Made Me Lactate

Tuesday, March 13th, 2012

Got Monkey Milk?

A monkey made me lactate. That sounds like a bad Judy Bloom title. But it’s true–actually two monkeys made it happen. Not even in person, but on video. Phil took Fia to the zoo and while there, he took video of the howler monkeys. He came home and showed it to me. They make this crazy screeching sound. I felt my boobs do that thing (ie: let-down) and suddenly, my shirt was soaked. I mean, it sounds nothing like a newborn cry, yet my little Em can’t even get results that good–and I produce like a machine for him. But through my nursing pads, bra and shirt? That’s revolutionary.

To any mom who is having problems producing: forget Raspberry Leaf Tea. Just watch this video. (We don’t have the capability to upload ours, but this is what they sound like.) I literally can’t be in earshot of it or else it happens. And of course it’s now Fia’s favorite video.

Oh, and mind you, this was in front of my father-in-law who is a pius Episcopalian Priest. I ran from the room in embarrassment while Phil and his parents looked puzzled. This was not something I wanted to explain.  Until now (and he’s not my demographic anyway, so he’ll never read this).

Any others have some good lactating stories?

 

Picture of monkey via Shutterstock

 

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