Pre Ops And Panic

Ok, well that title might be slimly dramatic.
But nevertheless, this is really getting real.

I imagined my first mammogram happening at a much riper age than the one I am currently at. I didn't picture it being for anything other than routine, but just pictured myself, you know… older. But there I was, topless with a stranger, and a large machine clenched around each breast. I felt so funny in the waiting room, before I went in for my exam. I looked around at the other ladies in the waiting room with me, all of us with our little robes on together, and I imagined their stories and why they might be there too. I hoped they were there for just routine exams, but realized also that that might not be the case. And I started to feel sad. And a little selfish. That on this day that was SUCH a non event for me, and technically classified as "just cosmetic", those ladies might be facing such a hard battle.

It's hard not to shake those feelings. To think that what I'm doing is just in vain. Because part of it is. That's the truth of the matter.

And then the guilt. But I feel that way pretty often as a mom and a wife, and I do think that's a normal part of those roles. That guilt sort of follows us women around, and creeps its way in at the most inopportune times. We question whether we should be spending money on those new jeans when the kids could use an extra pair of shoes instead. And we stop ourselves from taking the first bite of anything before anyone else has. Are we spending enough time with our spouse? Maybe I could have stayed up just a little later to get that last load of laundry done? Creepy guilt. Forking over those cashier's checks today, just a month before Christmas, there was that guilt [but also an immense amount of THANKS that we're now in a position to DO this, thanks to Beachbody].

And so these past few weeks of all of this preparation and planning for an event that's going to have me laid out for a solid week, probably longer, and no lifting my kids, or bending down to pick things up for them, or bathing them… I could go on and on. It's been a roller coaster. My to do list to make sure I'm ready for this thing is a mile long, and keeps me up at night. When I was 22 and had my original breast augmentation, I was newly engaged, but didn't have to worry. I wasn't responsible FOR anyone. I signed those disclosure papers with maybe a tiny twinge of the reality of the situation, but nothing even close to what these past few weeks have been like.

But yet, I'm EXCITED. I know what's on the other side of the pain I know I'll experience. And I WANT that. I'm not really imagining what I'll physically look like [although I can only imagine it's going to be a hell of a lot better than the pre-op photos my nurse took of me today in those hideous white surgical panties]. But more than that, I see myself visiting family in California next Summer, and actually taking my tank top OFF. Wearing a bikini in public for the first time in 6 years, and being able to run around with my kids on the sand without worrying about something "showing". I imagine myself living without back pain because my abdominals will be "back together" where they belong. That's what I imagine.

So between now and that time, I will continue to prep, and know that my support system is BIG. The loving words I received when I "came out" to you all last week was like therapy for my heart. I'll probably be done with my Christmas shopping earlier than I've ever been, the house will be completely decorated, and I'll actually have Christmas cards sent out this year AND on time, lol, just so I know it's ALL DONE before my surgery date [which is December 12th, for those of you who've asked]. It's been a rush to know this actually happening. And even though there's an incredible mix of emotions, I am manifesting ONLY the positive. I know that my body is fit and healthy and strong, and I am capable of having a flawless recovery. I am focusing on the good, and clearing out any thoughts that don't give me strength.

It's Time

Let me start by saying that there isn't really a good place to start, actually. That no matter what, someone in this life will disapprove or share a different opinion. And that's why it wasn't easy. To get to this point. It was actually a two year mental roller coaster. There was an internal battle that would be hard to explain in its entirety. But at the end of the day, I'm doing this because I care deeply about my happiness. I cannot preach self love as a health and fitness coach if I do not hold myself to the same standard.

A lot of you reading may know that I have three children. They were born in October of 2008, December of 2009, and October of 2011. My oldest child was still 2 years old when my third was born. So if you're doing the math, that's three pregnancies and births in 36 months. I'm what my girlfriends would say is "teeny", and it's hard for people to believe that 3 close-to-8-pound babies (and one 8.6 lbs) came from my body. I was the definition of "all baby", and in addition my stomach stretching beyond what seemed humanly possible, I gained 60, 50, and 40 pounds with each pregnancy. So my little frame had been through the RINGER in those three years.

I fought (and fight) hard for my fitness. After my last babe was born, I was ALL IN with my new lifestyle. I saw all of those extra pounds melt off thanks to the fight, and then I watched fun new muscles pop up! I had NEVER seen muscle definition before, so I was thrilled! But there were things that didn't change, despite my hard work. I promised myself that I would do ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING I could do to "fix" what I could fix myself, and after all the creams, wraps, oils, and scrubs I could try, I knew that genetics had won the battle.

I wanted to be one of those other women so bad.

The ones who had babies and bounced back immediately with little to no work required. They carried no trace or mark or any giveaway that they had ever even been pregnant. I imagined that's how I would be because that's how it was for all of my friends. They just had babies, and then were right back in their bikinis that following Summer. But I wasn't one of them.

Or one of the ones who, despite their obvious marks from pregnancy, they were happy. Confident even. They "wore their stripes proudly", and even LOVED their stretch marks and wrinkly, stretchy skin.

But neither of those types were me.
I kicked my own ass for my fitness, and grew to LOVE how I felt being in the best shape of my life. But there was that skin.

Oh that extra skin. How it taunted me. Just hung there over all of my hard work, made clothes fit so strangely, and found itself getting pinched in the fly of jeans. I'd pull at it, try to move it out of the way and imagine what I'd look like without it there. I'd cry over it, curse it, and find myself binging from the emotion of it all, which started a complicated relationship with food. To work SO HARD for something, never to see the result you know you deserve. It's a mind game. It made its way into my relationship with my husband, and crushed the confidence I should have had as the wife of a man who ADORED me just the way I was. It found my way into my business, which is centered around fitness and my love for it, and stole my joy, brought on ugly comparisons to others, and took the fun out of "the journey". That extra skin got in the way of EVERYTHING. Literally.

And here I was, teaching others to love their bodies. To "never give up", and not have excuses. But this cross to bear started to be too much to carry.

I listened to people discuss their marks from pregnancy, and say they were sweet reminders of when their babies grew inside of them. I LOVED that sentiment. I wanted so badly to adopt that way of thinking myself, but no matter how hard I tried to let myself embrace my wrinkly, raisin, "old" skin... I just couldn't. I wanted to hide from it, and keep it covered. The way I look at it is that my children here on this earth, walking around in front of me are my reminders. When I look at them, I remember their tiny bodies in my arms, and their sweet, soft, warm skin right after I birthed them. I remember their little (and big) kicks from inside of me, and how overjoyed I was when I met each of them. I remember everything. I do not need to look in the mirror 6 years after I became a mom to be "reminded" of my journey of motherhood. My children are walking blessings, that I thank The Lord for every day. That my body was strong enough to house each of them for 9 months, and give them life, and then produce nourishment for each of them. But I wanted my body back. I wanted to feel my age, which in my book still counts as "young"

Beyond the vanity of the situation, the trauma of those back to back pregnancies had taken its toll. I have diastasis recti (muscle separation of the abdominal), with an opening big enough to fit 3 fingers into. And a hernia that needs to be repaired before it leads to complications later on down the road. I feel pain in that area often. And so, my husband and I finally decided that it's time to fix those issues before they turn into bigger issues.

Beyond that, and while I'm just getting it all out there… In my past life (you know, when I was 22 and didn't know any better), and when fitness + this active lifestyle WASN'T a priority to me, I opted for a breast augmentation surgery that gave me breasts I feel that NOW are uncomfortably large for my body. I want to run and jump without pain in my back and shoulders, and not have to modify my workouts because of that pain, I've decided on a "redo", to become a size that I feel suits my frame better, and will allow be to comfortably live the active lifestyle I love. YUP, smaller, not bigger.

Like I mentioned earlier, this wasn't an easy decision. So many connections were made with so many incredible people because of this wrinkly tummy of mine. And a part of me battled with how this decision might let people down in a way. But my fear in this journey is that my transparency has been mistaken for confidence, and that to me feels dishonest. If I was put here on earth to help and inspire others, I have to be real. Real with you, and real with me. And my hope is that opening up about this new chapter of my story will show that we can be OKAY with our flaws, but also be okay with wanting to fix them. We can start fresh, and start over whenever we decide to.

You're Here! {Eeek!}

I used to blog. Pretty often even. But that seems like a previous life now.

I blogged about my babies' first steps, pregnancy, baking pies, baseball games, and so many other things that made up that picture perfect little life I led. But so many things are different now. Not different in a bad way. Actually, things are different now in a way that I never thought they could be, and I kinda sorta like life even better now.

If you haven't read my story yet, or you don't follow me on Facebook, you can check it out to get a better feel for what I'm talking about. But to recap in a sentence or two… I WAS a Major League Baseball wife, but then my husband's career ended, we lost our house, went into debt, lost our way, and then were able to turn it all around as a family. After that fall from grace, as I sometimes call it, it has taken us a couple HARD years of rebuilding. But it's funny how things work out sometimes. Perspective changes are necessary, and I'm forever grateful for ours.

It took me a long time to be ready to blog again. I knew that when I DID start blogging again, it would be raw, and I'd have to be pretty honest and open about some things that aren't the most comfy to talk about. But that's life, and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that the uncomfy things are often what promotes the most growth and connects us together in our journeys.

So, thank you for being here, and keep your eyes peeled for some big {scary + wonderful} things coming soon!

Caprese {Cauliflower Crust} Pizza

If you’re anything like me, PIZZA is the go-to treat meal of the week.
Every Friday, my family and I LOVE to indulge in pizza from our favorite delivery place. I am a firm believer in the fact that having one solid, amazing treat meal per week is good for you. Helps you to get that out of your system each week, so you’re less likely to stray from the plan during the rest of the week.

And while I appreciate a couple slices of cheesy pizza heaven… it has a tendency to make me feel a little bit… well, gross afterward. That grease, and that gluten in the crust gets me every time. So, I’ve heard tons about this cauliflower crust craze, and thought it was time to give it a shot. Actually, I should admit that I’ve made a cauliflower crust pizza before, but it was less than perfect. My crust came out super soggy, and wouldn’t hold together. Tasted great, but wasn’t much like pizza at all, lol! THIS TIME though… this time, I discovered THE SECRET to perfect cauliflower crust!

Here’s what you’re going to need:
1 full head of cauliflower {about 4 cups of cauliflower florets}
Your favorite salt-free seasoning mix {I used Mrs. Dash, but if you’re following the 21 Day Fix meal plan, you can use those seasoning mixes} I also added some Himalayan Salt and ground black pepper. 1/3 cup of shredded mozzarella
1 egg, beaten
Parchment paper
Then for your toppings, it’s really up to you.

To create a Caprese Pizza like I made, you’ll need:
Fresh mozzarella {I found a “round” from Trader Joe’s that was pre-sliced}
Fresh basil leaves
Fresh tomatoes, sliced

I wish I had taken pictures of the entire process, but I’m going to explain it all as best I can!
First, preheat your oven to 400 degrees. While your oven is preheating, you can prep your crust! The head of cauliflower I used produced almost exactly 4 cups of florets.

Place all of your florets into a blender or food processor, and pulse until you’ve achieved a rice-like consistency. Then, in a medium pot, bring about 1 inch of water to a boil. Then put your cauliflower rice into the pot and boil for about 5 minutes. Drain your cauliflower rice in a colander and let it cool!

Now here comes the SECRET! Once your cauliflower rice has cooled, lay a thin dish towel out on your counter, and dump the rice onto the towel You’re going to twist it up like cheese cloth, and SQUEEEEEEEEZE! You will be surprised how much water those littler suckers hold in! Squeeze until you don’t get much liquid anymore, and then dump all of your drained rice into a large bowl!

You’ll then add your beaten egg, your 1/3 cup of shredded cheese, and your seasonings {I just seasoned to taste, to offset the sweetness of the cooked cauliflower taste}. Once you’ve mixed that up really well, you’ll dump your mixture out onto a parchment paper-lined baking sheet. Then you’ll get your hands a little dirty by molding your “dough” into whatever shape you prefer! I have a rectangular baking sheet, so I made my crust into a rectangle, and kept it about 1/3 of an inch thick. Once you’ve got a good shape, stick it in the oven, and bake at 400 for 30-35 minutes, depending on how hot your oven gets!

Once you’ve got a delicious looking crust, now you can place all of your toppings on however you’d like! Get creative, and have fun! Once you’ve got your toppings loaded, put it right back in the oven for 5-10 minutes depending on what toppings you’ve got {if you’re using only veggies, you won’t need to go a full 10 minutes, but if you’re using some pre-cooked meat, I’d go a little longer}. ENJOY, friends!