Grocery store

The very worst part about working out a lot is what happens when you stop working out a lot. 

After every marathon, every mega event I've "trained" for, gotten really fit for, I like to sit on my butt for a good one to two months after, doing just about nothing. Because I earned it. 

And then I look in the mirror and I think, hey. Not fair. I worked hard! I don't get a free ride for, like, 60 days?

Of course, I've turned this on its head and come up with this rationale for my "in-between-events-laziness". If I worked out hard all the time, and then I felt out of shape... Well, I'd have to find ways to work out even harder just to maintain that level of fitness. 

And I'm not embarrassed to say that I'm not the kind of person who works out hard, just to work out harder. So sitting on my butt for 2 months is my way of getting out of shape just enough so that any level of activity still does its magic. 

But it's not exactly the same with nursing.

See, what I knew deep down but was refusing to acknowledge on a daily, conscious level, was that I was having my cake and eating it too. Twice a day.  And the only reason I wasn't gaining gobs of weight was because I was nursing Gillian.

Except that I'm not nursing that much anymore. And I never will again (!). And with freedom comes pounds. And fast. Sheesh.

But you thought this was going to be a long entry about post-nursing weight gain and body image. Don't worry. I'm not going to talk about my few extra pounds. I'm going to talk about the grocery store.

Because as soon as I decided that I needed to lose a couple pounds and drag my butt off the sofa, I took it straight to the grocery store. It's the first place I always go when I decide that I've been eating too much. I ask myself, what can I eat that will make me feel thinner?

This is a post about taking trips to grocery stores with hilarious 2 year olds.

Mine is called Gill. After a couple of days of icky sickness, we ventured out of the house to buy some asparagus and dandelion greens, avocados and yogurt. She had an immediate breakdown in the floral department, spurred on by a particularly fetching pink balloon. 

Crying fit number 1 over, she finally sat in the cart clutching her new bawoon and we headed for the produce department. Many shoppers, drawn to her cute, tear-stained cheeks and chubby little face, greeted her as we ambled along, but she refused to speak.

"Gillian, you should say hi to people when they say hello to you," I lectured.

Lesson learned, as we cruised aisle after aisle, any "hello!" by a stranger brought on a "Hi People" by Gill.

By the time we hit the canned tomato aisle she was clearly bored and not interested in staying in her seat. She swung her legs over the side and tried to get comfortable. "I'm sweeping, mama. I'm sweeping." 

I turned the corner and headed for the granola and she farted.

"I farted! I farted! I farted! I farted!"

I tried to acknowledge it and move past it, but she wouldn't stop chanting her secret. An innocent store clerk, unloading boxes of Honey Nut Cheerios, mused aloud "I wonder what she's trying to say?"

We had a melt down in front of the salami; the bawoon broke over her head when it touched the cold case holding the hummus, and everyone in the elevator was serenaded to the tune of 'Let It Go' from the movie Frozen.

And in the car ride on the way home, I treated us to a cookie. But just one :)

Diet schmiet. We deserved it.