32/365

I finally did it. I got tired of hearing that pesky treadmill nag me about being a fatty, fatty boombalatty, so we had a reunion of sorts. It wasn’t magical. A light didn’t shine down from heaven to the sound of a chorus of angels. It was mildly sweaty and majorly not interesting.

But I watched the Mattress episode of Glee. Too bad there’s only one left I haven’t seen, then I’ll have to bribe myself with something else, like … oh, MY HEALTH.

One of my best buddies, Blair, started McFatty Mondays to combat an epidemic of widening asses. I didn’t join the movement at first because I hoped I was pregnant. Yeah, not so. Then I didn’t join because I was just plain-old lazy.

Now I’m finally hopping on the bandwagon, but I’m going to march to a different tune, per the usual in my world. Seeing as I’m busting my ass to get pregnant, hoping to start putting on baby pounds soon, I’m not entirely concerned with the McFatty part of this movement.

And so, I introduce to you, dear readers, McHealthy Mondays.

Sorry, Blair. I just have to be different.

So what’s the difference between McFatty Mondays and McHealthy Mondays? Mainly, none of my focus will be on weight loss. Sure, dropping an el bee or 10 would be fabulous before I join the pudding club, but I have enough on the ol’ stress-me-out plate as it is.

Instead, I’ll focus on getting back to eating healthy and exercising regularly.

There’s nothing to discuss regarding my mostly non-existent exercise habits lately, but I did, up until recently, have excellent eating habits.

The Baby Jesus killed those.

That’s right. I’m blaming Jesus – Jesus and his Christmas cookies and potatoes and CARBS. CHRISTMAS CARBS.

As a PCOSer, I benefit from a diet full of foods low on the Glycemic Index. From late June, when I was first tentatively diagnosed with PCOS (to be later confirmed in September) until mid-December, I fucking ROCKED my low-GI diet.

Sure, it was hard to say goodbye to my soulmate, the potato. Sure, I missed ice cream. It’s really hard to eat an insane amount of vegetables when you aren’t used to it, and overkill on protein can make me gag.

Other than that, I felt amazing, I dropped some very easy pounds, I felt great … did I mention how wonderful I felt? Plus, you know, my low-GI diet felt amazingly proactive. A lot of time one fighting infertility spends is idle, waiting for specific days or test results. Sticking to a healthy, low-GI diet is something I can do every day to (supposedly) combat PCOS.

I’m going to give myself a couple days to see if I can shake the recent re-addiction to carbs. If it doesn’t work, I’ll follow the guidlines set by Phase 1 of the South Beach Diet, which, in a nutshell, means very, very, very, very, very, very, very, VERY few carbs – a detox of sorts.

More than a month of being a lazy cheat has come to a close. I’m getting back on track and back to living a healthy life.