The fitting room should bear the words, "Abandon hope, all ye who enter here" but I am, perhaps foolishly, not discouraged! The reason for this unfounded hope? I went running today. I wasn't quite propelling myself quickly enough to stir the perception of the wind in my hair, but I was out there! My wonderful baby daddy is making a great effort to get me back on the road to fitness (I think he caught a glimpse of the semi-nude post-pregnancy body that I'm sporting) and took the Izzy duty for some daytime action. Granted, I only actually ran 1 mile - and a slow one at that. But considering that the longest distance I've traveled recently under my own power has been between the couch and fridge, this is progress!
I have discovered the secret weapon for breastfeeding moms who want to run without incurring black eyes: the Enell bra. With (I kid you not) 18 eyehooks and the profile of a bullet-proof vest, it is designed to keep everything compressed and in it's place during aerobic endeavors. Donning this monstrosity feels akin to Scarlet O'Hara tightening the corset to achieve her 19-inch waist with a little help from some friends. Just like the words episiotomy, cerclage, and Braxton-Hicks which were unknown snippets from another language prior to pregnancy, Enell has made its way into my vocabulary to stay. And, no, I have not been paid by the makers of this fine product to hawk it to unsuspecting women with extra large mammaries. I am just one happy mama eagerly awaiting my next opportunity to put my sneakers back on the pavement and perhaps have a shot at wiggling into a one piece at the very least this summer.
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