What the HELL is wrong with people?

Or rather... What the HELL is wrong with ME.  Let me paint a picture.

Woman in her early 30's arrives at local, neighborhood gym, eager to WORK.  It is chest and arm day today.  She had her preworkout ~ 20 minutes ago so once she is done with her warm-up on the treadmill and a warm-up set, it should be prime muscle-building time!  She is ready.  She is focused.  She is determined.

As she enters the gym, she makes a sharp left turn and heads directly to the weight room.  Nope.  No other females there... as usual.  They are all spinning their wheels on elliptical machines, not realizing if they exerted the same amount of effort with some weights, they would actually begin to see results.  But she can't tell them that.  They have to figure it out on their own.  She drops her *NEW* Versa Grips (BEST invention EVER!!!), her water bottle and phone in an  undisturbed corner.  Warm-up time.

After her warm-up, she begins with a chest press warm-up.  As she grabs the 35lb. dumbbells, she happens to look up at the clock.  3:15.  Shit.  That explains the pubescent boys wearing horribly cut t-shirts with biceps smaller than hers.  OK, boys.  Saddle up!  Its time for a lesson in WORK.  Set 1 down.  Onto 40lbs.  Then 45, then 50.  Chest press done.  As she drops her weights back where they belong, she notices some of them are surprised... Surprised to see (1) a woman in the weight room grabbing something heavier than 10lbs. or (2) a woman actually WORK HARD and STRUGGLE while lifting.  There is heavy breathing, maybe some subtle grunts, and even a sporadic (but frequent) swear word.  Yes, boys.  I came here to work, not to gawk at your skin wrapped skeleton.  But thanks for the comic relief.  It is motivating me to "school" you.  I have 90 minutes to make as much progress as possible because baby boy is home, asleep while big sister is on watch.  I know what time he wakes up, everyday, and it is 10 minutes after I have to be done.  No time to mess around.  No time to play.

She jokingly teases one of the young men as she returns from filling her water bottle... "I see you eyein' my weights over here..." with a smile.  As awkward as awkward can be, he says, "No, its okay.  I'll get them when you are done."  Yes you will.  But in the meantime, stop standing around, flexing your underdeveloped skin flaps, texting whatever random girl, and do some work!

Half-way through her workout, a non-pubescent MAN happens to be sitting near the 45lb. plate she needs for tricep bench dips. "Excuse me..." she says politely.  "I need to grab that."  "Oh, sorry." He replies back.  But as he says these words, she notices a hesitation in his face.  He wants to say more, but is not confident in his thought.  "Ummm....."  She pauses, holding the 45lb. plate. "Can I ask you a question?" "Sure." She replies.  Then the qualification begins...

"This is probably something that will get me slapped... or might get me slapped, but I should ask it anyway..." 
Again, pausing holding an increasingly heavier 45lb. plate... "OK.  What?"
"I have to know.  Did you just have a baby or are you pregnant?"


-- silence --


"Under normal circumstances, you're right.  You would get slapped."  She begins to walk away.
"Soooooooooooooooooo..... No?"
"No."
"Did you just have a baby?"
"I have a year and a half little boy."
"Oh.  Well, that takes a long time to recover from, though."


-- silence --


"I think I'm going to workout a little harder now..."  as she walks away, veins popping in her shoulders and forehead.

No eye contact was made for the remainder of this scene.  Just LOTS of internal swearing, more heavy breathing, louder grunting, and a horribly deflated ego.

This was not the first time someone thought I was pregnant when in fact I was NOT.  HERE is a post I wrote... oh and, of course, HERE.  Both of these are from my personal/family blog I used to write before I made the switch to {Fit} Mom Diary.  If you are curious about my whole journey... THIS is where it began.

I write this all in jest, though the situation is ENTIRELY true.  It JUST happened a few days ago.  It needed to happen though.  It was good to be caught off guard, have a reality check, and be knocked down a few rungs.  I am not a total and complete bad ass.  I may think I am in the midst of a workout only because I NEED to feel that way.  It is fuel for my work.  I NEVER, NEVER try to make anyone feel bad about the fact that they are new, uncomfortable or unfamiliar with the gym.  I am ALWAYS excited to see new people there, especially if they are female!  I tend to offer encouragement and support instead of intimidation and degradation.

But... for this guys... this person who is capable of forming complete sentences but has an inability to actually think... I would have liked to say some other things.  Well... maybe not.  I bet he felt horribly embarrassed to realize he was wrong.  I bet he felt terrible as I walked away.  Well... maybe not.  I am just glad that it happened to me, a woman who feels very comfortable in her own skin, no matter how bloated or saggy it may look, instead of a woman new to the gym, trying to make a go of this whole "fit" thing. 

I am also grateful it happened because it really got my thinking.  First, it got me thinking some really angry, horrible words that didn't come out of my mouth, but then I really started to look at myself.  Do I look pregnant?  I know this seems like a totally erroneous question and undermines the very self-confidence I am trying to build, but let me explain.  My stomach has issues.



Not bathroom issues, which I have written about HERE and HERE.  But real issues.  Even my trainer has asked on multiple occasions, "What's up with your stomach?"  The only way to explain is with pictures.

Here I am, approximately 9% body fat.  Shoulders, legs, back, they all look great.  But... look at my stomach.  I still looks like I have a "gut".  To a normal person, yes, that may sound crazy.  But looking at it logically, why does my stomach poke out more than anyone else?  Is it genetics?  Is is because my abs were blown out from three babies?  I couldn't figure it out.

So, what do I do when I need answers?  What does any good Exercise Science graduate student do?  They research.  That is exactly what I did.  By the way, this has become my solution to solving all the great problems of the world.  What do I make for dinner?  Research it.  How do I keep my house clean?  Research it.  What can I do to make my face look like a Victoria's Secret model?  Research it.  How do I keep a little boy from destroying my house top to bottom between breakfast and lunchtime over Christmas break?  Research it.  Why do people think I am pregnant? Research it.

The first step was to ascertain that NO, I was not in fact pregnant.  Done.  Next step was to figure out what else it could be.  Did something happen to my body while growing babies that has forever ruined my chances for a flat stomach?  Honestly, yes.



My hand gets lost in the Mid-Atlantic trench.



Because I pay attention to my body, I knew that after Olivia, my abdominal wall never actually healed back together.  I always had this "ridge" in the middle.  Not like an awesome 6-pack ridge, but a deep crevasse like the mid-Atlantic trench.  So deep, that if I pushed down far enough, I could feel my pulse very aggressively through my stomach.  Not from my heart, but from my descending aorta {very LARGE blood vessel that travels out of your heart and takes blood to the lower half of the body}.  I could feel it.  Yikes.  Big trench.  So I read some more. 

When women are pregnant and either have multiple pregnancies, large babies, or are already overweight, they run the risk of having abdominal separation, known as Diastasis Recti.  The outer abdominalS separate, making room for a growing baby and many times (unless treated with proper exercise/therapy) don't close.  That is what happened to me.  Diastasis Recti.



Preggo belly - NOT.



This often leaves the blob on the belly (like I have) and the only thing holding your innards together are weak connective tissue and weak Transverse abdominalS (the deepest layer in your core - acts like a girdle).  Often times, hernias appear, especially around the belly button.  My girdle is broken.  I am pretty sure I have an umbilical hernia and I look... well... pregnant.  It gets worse with carbs too {or if its been a while since my last visit to the bathroom}.  It completely makes sense because these things make any normal abdomen swell, and mine is exponentially expanded because I don't have a tight core to hold it in. 

Ok, sir.  You are forgiven for your lack of IQ.  But this is your only "get out of jail" pass.  Next time...

The good news:  apparently it can be repaired.  There are two options: exercise/therapy or surgery. 



The bad news: The exercise/therapy requires an abdominal splint, therapy movements and some other things (like no exercise and limited sex for 6 weeks?!?!?!). The surgery is basically a "tummy tuck".  I don't want a tummy tuck, I can't stop exercising, nor can I live with a man who is deprived for 6 weeks.  I would die.  He would die.  Our kids would die.  There is just too much stress in our lives to prohibit any type of stress relief that needs to occur - in the weight room or bedroom. 



Lean back and you can see the split
open up around my navel

So what now?  I don't know.  I am going to try the splint and therapy moves, but I don't think my condition is grave enough that I need to stop exercising or limit other activities.  I will just be walking around with what looks like a back brace for the next 6-18 weeks.  I have to live in this thing, workout in this thing, even SLEEP in this thing.  And its NOT cheap.  I will be calling my dr. for an official prognosis (since I am only, at best, guessing this is really the source of the problem) and see what insurance is willing to cover.  I have read this also causes low back pain (check!), weak pelvic floor (check!), and spinal misalignment (check!).

More bad news... all those crunches, v-ups, roman chairs, etc. that I have been doing to "strengthen" my core have actually been making the trench worse.  They engage the top abdominals, causing them to pull outward and widen the gap.  Oh, great.  So none of those until my mid-Atlantic trench becomes just a crack in the dirt.  Wish me luck!

Oh, and Eli was born with this same condition.  I guess it can be hereditary, and can occur in men as well.  Who knew???

If you have similar issues with your body, know that though diet is a LARGE portion of getting a flat tummy, there are ways to check if you do, in fact, have Diastasis Recti.  HERE is a video to check.