Mirror Mirror on the Wall

What the F happened to my body. I mean clearly I know what happened, but am I the only one who was completely delusional into thinking my body would bounce back? That I would be one of the lucky ones, that two weeks after birth I would be back to pre-baby, or better yet my mid twenties body, because of all the breastfeeding and no time to eat thing – which if you read my previous posts is not exactly what happened. Also I should let you know at this point that my mother left the hospital after she had me in her pre-baby jeans; it would have been nice if I had been passed down some of those genetics instead of the RBF.

Well we are now five months post pregnancy and a long way off from pre-baby and mid twenties body seems like a lost cause. I still have a mini skirt from that era  I am determined to fit into again, even if the fashion world would shudder at someone my age wearing something that short.

I am aware that I made the decision to carry a child and that there was a chance things may not return to the exact form, to appreciate my body for what it has done, but I miss what I used to see in the mirror. By no stretch of the imagination did I resemble a Victoria Secret model or even her evil stepsister, but I had worked hard to have a rough sketch of muscle definition, I ate healthy most of the time realizing that my metabolism and I had a difference of opinion on what we deemed an efficient speed, and my boobs while not large did have great level of perkiness.

Then there are the tiger stripes. Go moms who are proud of them, I hate mine. Stretch marks were the one thing I thought I had come to terms with before I became pregnant, I have them on other parts of my body when during puberty I went from an average sized human to a giant within two months. I had made it to 39 weeks without any developing and when I did get them it felt cruel that my skin had let me down at the 11th hour. I told my partner that once we decide we are done having children a costly visit to get them lasered will be in the budget.

This post is not meant to be a downer but about a woman who faces the daily challenge of which pair of lululemons’ are for casual wear and which ones are considered dressy – for special occasions (yes I am trying to make yoga pants dressy), and also wondering why muumuus never took off on the Paris runways. A woman who now knows why they call it a gunt, whose boobs are slowly loosing their Orangutang shape and may still recover, and a woman that would like to fit into her cute clothing again, to feel proud of mom she is and the body she has.

So back to the basics I go, eating healthy and exercise. Out with the tempting Christmas treats and in with the healthy ones. I am going to try to eat Mediterranean, which should be easy in the Lands of Always Winter. I have hired something called Jorge, who is a 25 year old Eastern European energizer bunny I meet with at the gym, he gets sadistic pleasure in finding innovative ways of torturing a new muscle group and I promptly check to see if there more definition after each session. I understand that not everyone has the funds to hire a personal trainer, but I can assure you after some research online that there are plenty of ways you can torture yourself in the comforts of your home.

There is no part of me that would want my old body back if it meant I wouldn’t be a mother, however I am a firm believer that feeling better about myself will make me a better mom.

 

 

 

 

 

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