When in doubt {as I always say}, just start moving.

Walk it off, People.

Now, more than ever, we need exercise. I know it’s hard because some of you are facing {quarantine} situations where you can’t go outside for more than one hour/day.

That’s rough. I get it.

But still. This is no excuse not to move our booty thang. Yes, I’m trying to be funny with a late 90s throw back.

Seriously, People. Get up and move. It’s critical to health and happiness. It balances out our brain hemispheres — that’s one reason walking is so good for us, it invokes the cross lateral motion so you balance out.

Sign up for Beach Body on demand. Search youtube — there are thousands if not millions of free workouts on there.

Or. Make up your own as you go along! I find I have to frequently do this with James hanging around, or trying to hang on me. When that happens, I work him in.

I squat while I hold him. I squat and throw him up in the air. I do pushups so I’m down on his level and get my face as close to his as possible — he particularly loves that and shrieks in delight.

My point here is: if I didn’t have movement right now. I’m not sure where I’d be mental health wise.

It’s my outlet. My release. My medicinal secret to calmness. It keeps me positive. Happy.

I could care less about the amount of calories burned — I cared about that for way too long. Counting each thing out in my head as I consumed it. Obsessing over how little or how much I ate.

I’m over that. It’s not sustainable. What got me past that, you might be asking?

Exhaustion.

When James was born, I found myself in a completely different situation than I did postpartum with Jack : I couldn’t lose the weight.

It was as though my body was insulating with baby fat. I’ll elaborate inf ull on this later, but the short of it is:

For a couple months, I thought I was doing the right thing:

I fanatically tracked every single thing. I pushed myself, probably a little too hard physically when I just wasn’t ready.

All this on top of caring for a newborn where some days you have zero time between all those cluster feedings. Oh, and another child on my hands.

I hit a brick wall of exhaustion. I realized: it wasn’t worth it. I was miserable. It made me feel extremely depressed and negative.

So I was a little fluffy. My stomach wasn’t toned as it was before. I still had a layer of baby fat covering my arms.

Yet.

Look at what I had done : created a human ! Birthed said human. Was able to feed said human — all accomplished by my amazing strong body that carried not just me, but my baby, through these stages.

So I had an extra 15 pounds on me of the 33 I had gained.

To hell with it.

The revolutionary thing was: I started to love myself. I thanked each and everyone of those 15 pounds day in and day out.

Of course, I didn’t mean it at first. I wanted to scream how much I loathed the feeling of my thighs rubbing together and how uncomfortable it was to feel my skin hanging over my jeans when I sat down.

But I continued on with my offering of thanks.

I continued on with my commitment to move everyday for my health — not for weight loss.

I did it because it brought happiness to me.

Do it for you. For the positivity it brings you. For having something to channel your fear or frustration into right now. For the endorphins. For the challenge.

To be the best you.