#30 on my 101 Things list has nearly killed me.

Zandria and I (along with my dear friend Amy & her friend) just took a strip aerobics class at The P Spot. I am not at all exaggerating when I say that the 45 minutes I spend rocking my hips and dropping it like it was hot were among the most challenging of my life.

Before I found out that I had someone riding shotgun, I was training for a marathon. Three weeks ago tomorrow, I ran 12 miles for my last long run. I’ve been seeing a personal trainer for months. I am, it’s fair to say, in pretty damn good shape. But this class? This class reduced me to a thigh-quivering mass of jello within about 5 minutes.

I have a newfound respect for strippers.

Here’s the instructor, Michaela (who is a certified personal trainer and owns her own business):

Yeah. Remember when I said I was in pretty damn good shape? Michaela is in absolutely frigging phenomenal shape.

She’s also very persuasive, as she managed to convinced me and my friend Amy to wear “the shoes” for the class. “The shoes” in question are 6-inch platform heels. I’m already 5′9″. You do the math. I looked like a giant awkward drag queen. Behold the shoe.

Both Zandria and I had worked up quite a sweat by the end of the class!

I would DEFINITELY go back–this was a phenomenal workout!

Image from http://www.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/2577305/
2/istockphoto_2577305_pour_wine_into_glass.jpg.

I and–I feel fairly confident making this assumption–many of my readers tend to take on too much. At any given moment, we’re juggling the demands of our primary job, perhaps an extra or freelance gig or two, our families, our friends and social lives, our marriages or relationships, our health and fitness, our hobbies, and our churches, charities, or volunteer organizations. Our plates are pretty darn full. Sometimes, we just don’t know when to say when.

Your husband (partner/friend/family member/coworker) may ask, as mine has of late, why don’t you just not do some of this stuff?

To which I reply by chucking my overstuffed day planner at him, laughing maniacally, and running off into the sunset. (Note to men: This is NOT what you should say to your overworked, overstressed wife who is balancing a full-time job, a part-time job–my Examiner page, which launched yesterday, a website, and an overpacked social calendar ALL WHILE BUILDING A HUMAN. I’m just saying, word to the wise.)

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Eight weeks after giving birth to her THIRD child, Heidi Klum walked the Victoria’s Secret runway in (and this is not a joke) an electric thong.

Five months after having her son, former Bachelorette Trista Sutter appeared on the cover Us Weekly in a bikini with visible ab defintion and nary a stretch mark in sight.

A recent article at MSNBC questioned whether the insanely quick return to pre-baby condition by celebrity moms like Heidi and Trista helps or harms us mere mortals.

In one camp, moms like Catherine Lang-Cline are inspired by these hot mamas. “… I do find it inspiring that I don’t have to stay the flabby lump of goo that I feel I am now. Celebrities show that it’s possible to look good after having a baby. Granted, they’ll probably do it in half the time, but at least it’s possible.”

On the other side of the fence, some experts argue that celebrity moms set expectations that simply aren’t realistic for the vast majority of us who don’t have a nanny, nutritionist, chef, and personal trainer on call. These expectations influence our husbands, who wonder “If Christina Aguilera can lose the weight, why can’t you?”, and us, sparking disordered eating and exacerbating postpartum depression.

The question of the week is this: Are you inspired or discouraged by women like Heidi and Trista? How does their post-baby body success make you feel?

Speaking as a terrified mom-to-be with a history of disordered eating, I’d have to say that it alarms me. I don’t feel inspired; I feel intimidated. What if I can’t measure up to this impossibly high standard? I’d prefer to spend the first few months after delivery focusing on the baby rather than freaking out about my body (although I suspect a certain measure of freaking out is inevitable).

What do you think?

I’m so excited! The fruits of my successful intention-manifestation experiment are finally… um, fruiting.

Anyway.

Hop on over to Examiner.com/dc and check out my page.

Oh, and let me know what you think of my first article!

My husband and I had a plan for the next few years. It was a good plan. It had us paying off all of our debts (including my student loans), aggressively saving for retirement, and setting aside enough cash for a 20% down payment on the home of our dreams, AND it left room for a few dream vacations–New Year’s in Argentina, a trip to the Dominican Republic with my best friend, and a cruise to Alaska.

God, I loved that plan.

And then…

Then…

Something unexpected happened* (something wonderful, but earth-shattering) that has totally shifted our priorities, rendering our perfect, amazing plan irrelevant given our new circumstances. Continue Reading »