9 Months On

During my maternity leave, oh so long ago, I feverishly did sit-ups, yoga, walks, chugged water…to no avail.  I lost 0.4 lbs. the entire 3 months.  Then I remembered the wisest words in that entire Girlfriend’s Guide to Pregnancy book I found at a used bookstore: “9 months to put it on, 9 months to take it off.  Don’t even try.”

So I eased back.  I cut back on the cupcakes, sure (oh god how I loved those during pregnancy…) but I didn’t worry too much about this pooch or my ever increasing dread of looking down in the shower.  Then on the 23rd of this month I realized, as we were wishing our girl a “happy birthday!” that the deadline had finally come.  What a glorious 18 months it was.  Eating whatever I wanted, minus of course anything causing heartburn in those last months of pregnancy (which would be oh I don’t know, air? That seemed to make it really bad).

Now I’m staring down the barrel of a 15 lb. weight loss just to get back to the pre-pregnancy weight I was which was ALREADY considered obese, morbidly obese by my BMI.

I don’t take stock too much in BMI’s, never did.  However, when I was being wheeled to the OR I remember hearing them discussing my weight and if I qualified for some kind of intervention, I’m assuming pain medication.  I have no idea and I was humiliated to ask afterwards.  Instead I’m going to assume it was discussed because they couldn’t believe someone with that number on the scale could look this gorgeous even bloated, bawling and hair askew from 18 hours of labor.  That they were considering changing the enter BMI indexing system based on the lies it was telling about me alone.

I’d say my motivation to lose weight was to get into skinny jeans or some other such 20-year-old girl nonsense, but no.  It’s not even that my doctor wants me to lose weight along with the anti-depressant medication treatment.  What I want is another baby in the next 6 months.  I want to give her a sister, and there is no way in hell I’m starting another pregnancy this big and full of all of these remaining unhealthy eating habits.

Bonus round if I get to actually shop for jeans from the women’s department and not Metro Tent & Awning.

When I was pregnant I felt gorgeous: round, beautiful, feminine.  Since giving birth I’ve felt motherly.  Which is still beautiful, really.  I feel so relaxed, but it’s a different kind of beautiful.

I’m not concerned with fashion or how I look as much and as comforting as that is, it’s also a little scary to me too.  I look at my closet now and my new outfit is cardigans, v-neck t-shirts, flat shoes, hair brushed, maybe, no make-up, no jewelry…I feel my age.  I feel good mentally, but now it’s time to make the body match the brain.

Sitting here this morning feeding my daughter the homemade oatmeal/tofu/banana concoction I make her every day, as I munch on a egg & bacon sandwich from a fast food joint, it hit me that there is obviously food in this house that is nutritious.  I spend hours making sure she gets nothing but the best, healthiest, organic, balanced diet ever.  I read books, plan menus, comparison shop, research all for every morsel that goes into her.  Then I fill myself with whatever is fastest and usually crappy all while sporting a ragged ponytail and stained pj pants.

If I want her to have a healthy body image, a healthy weight and a healthy general life, seems like I should show her how important it is to take care of myself too.

Mothering…that term apparently also includes the need to mother ourselves, as well as those little pink ham loafs lying in that bassinet.

So come on thighs!  You with me??



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