I remember, one time, before having kids, I needed to lose seven pounds in a week. I went on a crash diet of wheat thins, cheese, and vodka and was able to fit in my Little Black Dress with room to spare.
Then, with my usual impeccable timing, I had a baby. At thirty. It was a double body whammy. Not only did my metabolism slow down, but I was too tired to think of dieting and exercise and too responsible to resort to vodka. So I did what so many other women do. I went on Weight Watchers. The problem is, though, I can’t seem to find how many points are in the crust of a peanut butter sandwich, two bites of cold mac and cheese, half a chicken nugget and a sip out of a room temperature juice box.
I do know, considering how difficult it is to lose weight, those items must add up like chocolate eclairs.
It’s hard to remember to take care of ourselves after having kids. The free time (and money!) I used to spend at the salon, the gym, the masseuse is non-existent. My hair is trimmed every year and coloured, not by a professional, but by a box of Clariol. I’ve recently started running to try to gain some sort of sanity, but miss my yoga and step classes. Thankfully, I have an in house masseuse. He’s five and only charges Legos.
As much as I love and adore my children, I do miss that time I used to have, not to mention the disposable income. For some reason, when I spend money on things like a trip to the hairdresser instead of nappys or school clothes, I feel guilty. My mum assured me this is perfectly normal and told me a story of feeling bad for buying herself a new nail polish.
Recently, I’ve started to figure out ways to pamper myself. I make a date to give myself a manicure once a week. I set aside time to do a little yoga after my runs. I even bought a pair of impractical shoes. They were all little things that didn’t cost much in either time or money, but they made me feel, for the first time since having my son five years ago, like the old me.
Now, if only I could figure out a way to make the low point, delicious meals in my cookbooks. Because, really, those crusts add up.
What do you do to pamper yourself? Do you feel guilty?