Ok. Here's the deal. I am officially four weeks post partum and completely sick of all pants with an elasticized-up-to-my-bra-waistband. The problem is that I still can't get my humongous body into my old jeans. Like, not. even. close. Even with a little wiggle and lots of these-pants-are-a-little-tight-lunges.

Deep breath.

I have a problem with accountability. And justification. Bad day? Then eating out of the ice cream container is totally acceptable. Walking upstairs during what is supposed to be naptime only to find poop smeared all over the bathroom? Go ahead, you totally deserve to raid the potty candy stash. See what I mean?

So starting today, and every single Wednesday thereafter, we're playing a game called Let's Get Brooke Back Into Her Skinny Jeans. Won't that be fun? See, this is the accountability part of my problem. And because, other than my mother and father and every once and awhile my husband, I really have no idea who reads this little blog (nor do I care to- it makes me nervous to know. Hence no blog comments. The last thing I want is comments on my life please.) So if I blabber on about my recent purchase of a SIZE TEN pants (size ten people!) I don't know who's out there but I do know you're out there. Scary, huh? I'm officially accountable to the people in the clouds...

The history of my fat: When I moved to Indianapolis I was about three sizes smaller than what I am right this second. That size (4) for me takes a lot  of work (think multiple hour workouts every day of the week) and a ton of deprivation. Then I moved in with Brian and, ooops, I gained ten pounds. Not a terrible thing to be a size 6. It's really my perfect size. The one where you can eat pretty much anything and work out a moderate amount and maintain it easily. The size my body is happiest being. Oh, but then my two favorite little people came along and, bam, SEVENTY FIVE POUNDS later I was pregnant with twins. When I became pregnant with Harry I still had 10-15 of those pounds to lose. Add to that the 45 pounds of weight I gained with him, minus the thirty pounds I've lost the past three weeks and we come to the positively awesome number of 38 pounds to lose. THIRTY FREAKIN' EIGHT POUNDS.

Obama should read that last paragraph for a lesson on transparency.

Three of my goals this year were to lose this weight (one), become a more conscientious food consumer (two), and put myself together every morning (three). This little weekly weigh-in of mine is one step closer to goals one and two and when they are accomplished a step in the direction of number three. You see, I cannot get pretty every morning when my wardrobe consists of maternity underwear, velour no-nos, and and spandex pants- which, yes, I totally wear even when I have not and have no plans to workout. Because I am just that large right now. This is me justifying yoga apparel is A-ok to wear when not in a yoga studio. Which, if you've seen rear ends like mine walking around in their shiny Nike pants, you know is completely non-justifiable. I'm the person people whisper about..."spandex isn't for everyone," they say.

Goal number two has been pseudo accomplished. Until the babes were about 15 months old we were totally on the organic bandwagon. Then it dawned on me that my husband was a resident and I was a stay at home mom, and paying our mortgage was more important than shopping at Whole Paycheck (as Whole Foods is known around these parts). Since, Baby was born, however, we've returned to the better for us philosophy. It's not so much about organic as it is about knowing what's inside our food. This means eating only foods with ingredients we can pronounce, avoiding genetically modified foods, eliminating HFCS from our diets completely, shopping locally, etc. We've found some incredible local dairies, and while the two CSAs in our area have year-long waitlists we've been buying all our produce at the farmer's market (which we are super lucky to have year-round).

Sooo, better for me food combined with three days a week at the gym (helloooo Tyler), yoga on Thursdays, and The Shred every afternoon during naps, those thirty eight won't be that hard to lose. Right? Stay tuned to find out...