I had these great intentions to hit up Zumba while I was here in Buffalo (where I am until Monday), to make myself a regular fixture at the gym with my sister, and to beautify Elmwood Avenue and it environs on daily walks.

HA.

I managed two (or wait, was it three?) visits to the gym around Christmas and New Year’s, which were totally blissful and which had me mentally redacting odes to the elliptical machine.  In fact, there was an entire post originally scheduled as such that somehow got lost in the shuffle.  But it was poetic, I tell you, and may surface again–though I am ashamed to post it now that that my favorite elliptical at the gym has been sullied by the young, hardcore, and un-pregnant.

I managed ONE single Zumba class with my mom during the first week I was here, and no more since.  It was partly due to the holiday break and lack of classes during that time, and partly due to being so busy with everything else here that I forgot to actually go.  Lame, I know.  But honestly, I”m not sorry I’ve missed out on Zumba here–and I can’t wait to go back to my regular class in Trinidad, even if all I can do with my lumbering belly in tow is gently lift my feet and give my arms a cursory shake here and there.

I have, however, walked like a champ.  If it wasn’t pouring rain or dumping snow or so cold that I’d risk frostbite, I was walking and beautifying Elmwood with my presence.  Yeah, probably not beautifying it most days, but you get the idea:  I walked for an hour most days, took eight gazillion pictures on these walks, and developed an encyclopedic knowledge of every single serviceable bathroom in the Elmwood Village area.  I have never been more grateful for a mild winter even if it still felt butt-ass frigid to my Trini-tempered self, to put it delicately.  Unfortunately, though, winter has arrived since and I’ve given my word to my family and husband not to venture out onto slippery sidewalks by myself; I’ve complied because I’d rather give my word than make them hire a notary to make me sign a legal document stating that I’ll keep my tail indoors, but man, I miss the walks.

On top of that, there have been some brief flirtations with strength training.  Sigh.  I’ve kept up with a couple of routines for a week or two at a time, and then I seem to forget all about it.  However, that is stopping, and I’m committing to a regime–partly because I know I can handle it and can do it at home, but mostly because I want to hit up the beach every Saturday for a month until the beginning of the ninth month and, if my belly must be ginormous, at least my legs and arms can look something near right.

But no more excuses, I mean it!!  I am committing, giving my word, and publicly pinky-swearing to a strength routine five times a week from now until… well, until Miss Baby Madam is born or I can’t do it anymore.  For now, that routine will be:

• Three sets of eight lunges (the kind that you step back to do, so I can steady my Humpty Dumpty self with a chair to the front)
• Three sets of eight thigh presses (from Core Fusion; again, steadied by the chair)
• Three sets of ten to fifteen leg raises of the ballet, tilting-forward-and-lifting-leg-to-the-back variety (from Core Fusion, with chair)
• Three sets of ten bicep curls, both with palms facing up and with palms facing in
• Three sets of ten arm pull-downs with weights (or whatever they’re called, from Core Fusion)
• Three sets of that exercise where you hold the weights behind your head and use your triceps to lift them up

(As you can see, I have a highly technical knowledge of exercise names.  That’s why I’m not a trainer or medical professional and why you should not take advice from me on such things, etcetera etcetera).

On top of this, I’ll do some kind of cardio four times a week–that could be Zumba for tiptoeing pregnant ladies, walking for as long as my bladder allows, or swimming (for as long as I can remain decent in any of my swimming gear).

I think I can handle this.  I should be able to handle this.  We’ll see what my freaky-science-experiment pregnant self lets me do, though.  It’s not like I’m the boss of my body these days, you know what I mean?

And in case you wanted to see what I’m working with these days, here’s the bumpliness in all its 31-week glory:

(Yep.  Large enough that getting out of the car without scraping the bushes is a big accomplishment. I can’t lie–I actually kinda love it).