Being Kendra_ Cribs, Cocktails, and Getting My Sexy Back - Kendra Wilkinson [34]
When I first got on the treadmill, I ran harder and better than I ever had in my entire life. Even though I hadn’t run in several months, I was sprinting like I was in the greatest shape of my life. I felt like Forrest Gump. I could have run across America, I had so much energy and motivation. I felt like that was the way to be me again. I had a destination but I knew I couldn’t get there overnight. So every time I ran, I ran more than I ever had in my life. I felt great.
I felt so good I went back the next day and the next day and the next day and the next day. It became a routine. The second Hank got back from practice I was going to the gym for thirty to forty-five minutes. I was going to murder the gym, then going to the tanning salon in the middle of winter and getting my tan on. It was like I had been stuck in this black hole and then one little trip to the doctor triggered me right out of it.
My first point of focus was my mental well-being. But as soon as I got my smile back, I started paying attention to the rest of my body. I knew I had put on weight, and I knew I didn’t look that good or feel that good anymore. So I needed to fix it. I wasn’t worried about my belly—that’s where my baby came from and I wasn’t surprised to see it had gotten bigger. I was honest about the fact that my stomach wasn’t going to go back to being a six-pack again any time soon; I’m not Gisele Bündchen. I wasn’t stressing about that. I was stressing about my back. I hate my back. It’s always been a “problem spot” but being pregnant made it that much worse. It’s boxy. And my boobs got too big and made me look bigger than I actually am. Especially when my milk came in. Then my neck area got big, so combine that with the fact that my back exploded and I just looked like a giant Volvo. I gained a lot of weight in my back, upper and lower. Most women hate their arms and legs, but I hated my back. From top to bottom and left to right (especially under my armpits—my traps), I felt like I had wings.
Although I was sweating it out daily on the treadmill and painted over the rest with a spray tan, I couldn’t shake the baby weight no matter how many miles I ran or what diet plan I was on. Let me tell you, there’s nothing babyish about baby weight. This stuff is a monster. I had Freshology delivering all my meals, I was running on the treadmill, I was barely drinking, and I was breast-feeding. Losing weight should have been easy! But contrary to some of the Hollywood moms who flaunt their bikini bodies just weeks after giving birth, it wasn’t.
Five months into motherhood, I still couldn’t shed the weight. I was feeling better about myself and more optimistic since getting back to the gym, but the number on the scale still wasn’t budging. I ended up throwing away the scale because it became my enemy! I weighed about 140 pounds the day the baby came out of me, and five months later, I still weighed 140 pounds. This really started to anger me because mentally I felt healthy. My postpartum depression was gone and I was working out, dieting, and trying new things like smoothies and new exercises. Other than motherhood, weight loss was my number one focus, but you’d never have been able to tell that by looking at me.
I was technically “cured” of my postpartum depression, but the fact that I couldn’t lose a pound was starting to get to me. But I didn’t want to give up; nor did I want to get fatter either. I started to think about other options because I thought there was no hope. I was doing everything I could and not losing the weight. I was working out twice a day in 120 degree heat and hadn’t lost a pound yet. I didn’t know what to do.
So I tried throwing up my food, but bulimia just wasn’t my