I'd say I'm adequately thin. I currently fit into most of my pre-baby clothing. I weigh the same as I did pre-baby. But, I would not spend time looking at myself in the mirror naked. I'm no Natalie Portman (note: I wrote this before she won the Oscar and before I found out she was pregnant). In fact, I'm falsely representing my pre-baby weight now since fat weighs less than muscle and I worked out then while I barely hit a downward dog nowadays.
Then, I saw it. I saw it waving back at me. There it was in all it's glory, making itself known to me for the first time in baggage claim at lga: my arm fat. It called out to me:
“Hello! Hi! Thanks for all the chocolate, chips, cheese and other crap you've been eating. Keep up the good work laying off those tricep dips. Talk to ya."
I don't know who invented cap sleeve tees anyway...
Oy.
And then, there was the need for a new pair of jeans. God help us all. Girls you know what I'm talking about. Men, you have no idea.
Guys walk into Macy's, pick up your 34/34s or whatever and walk out.
Oh no. Not girls.
You gotta try 'em on and try on lots of 'em to find the right pair. It's a lot like finding your wedding dress. Do they have a "This is gonna make my husband notice me" factor? What about the "Can I squat down and wipe off my kids face without mooning people" factor? What shoes can I wear these with? What shirts? How much food can I eat and how much can I drink and still be able to breathe while wearing these? And on and on...
So me and the baby hoofed it to the Gap on Steinway Street (yes that's the one: "Get it on Steinway,....Steinway Street!") one morning for our jeans excursion. I had a gift certificate and hadn't eaten much that morning in hopes of looking thin, so it was time to get ‘er done.
I focused and picked up 4 different styles of size 8 jeans and prayed oh please let me not look like sausage links, oh please. Arden and I got into a dressing room and the fun began.
I put on the regular bootcut pair and shockingly, I don't look horrifying. I round up Arden, do another quick scan for anything fatal she could pick up off the floor and ingest, and I move on to pair #2. The curvy fit. Ah, home at last. My heart started to beat faster as I realized I made it to the undiscovered country of a perfect jean. The rise wasn't embarrassingly high or low. The fit not too tight or loose. I loved the wash and thought they'd still fit after being washed. A winner. Then I tried on the jeggings just for a good laugh and I good laugh I had.
All joking aside I accept and love my post-baby body. I have the telltale belly. I even still have a fine linea negra. My boobs, okay I won’t go there. They certainly earned their keep. I’m proud. I am proud to physically reflect the fact that I incubated and gave birth to a baby. Time to start accepting and embracing the chances that come along with being a mom. Thankfully there’s always a new fit to try.
and my husband can't understand why I won't let him but jeans for me.....
ReplyDeleteBodies are funny things. It's easy to forget that they serve amazing purposes, and instead focus exclusively on the way they look to other people. I actually like the stretch marks from my pregnancy. They're pretty small and few, which i know makes a difference, but I like them as reminders. And, I recently had a conversation about boobs with the rest of the mamas, and I realized that if your boobs are big and already somewhat saggy before you have a baby, then they just look the same after!
ReplyDelete