After a few false starts I can breathe. My period trickled in yesterday, and looks as normal today as I imagine the period of a woman who has had four D&Cs will look. So, Yay.
Yesterday I spent a good deal of energy on some new Zumba routines that I am rolling out to some of my office-mates at a class I'm holding after work tomorrow. We all know how toxic sedentary life is for me... Well, I've mentioned before that I work with some seriously stressed out women - some of whom live in a dangerous public health demographic: African-American, overweight and pre-diabetic. My colleagues are also the kindest, most supportive group of colleagues that anyone could wish for, and that's without knowing all of the gory details of the hell and back I have emerged from. It's sheer pleasure to try to sweat out my own issues with them while trying to get us all on a road to better health.
Between the cardio and an app on my phone to track my meals that I am finally deciding to use, I believe this is going to be the spring where I get my body back. I don't want to own the strange puffy body of that chick who's had pregnancy hormone running through her for the past three years - take a moment to imagine: 5 first trimesters of weight gain. I want to own the body of a former dancer who can still fit into cute clothes from H&M.