Monday, September 08, 2008

All I Want Is No Muffin Top

Immediately after giving birth I lost thirty pounds. I don't recommend my method--which was to lose a whole bunch of water and also be so crazy that you don't eat anything for about two weeks. I lost thirty pounds in two weeks and was just eight pounds heavier than my pre-preggo weight. And I have been hanging out there ever since.

I've lost and gained that eight pounds a couple of times. According to my parents' scale (I don't own one) I might actually weigh more than I did that two weeks post partum. Yes, that depresses the hell out of me.

This flux is mainly because now that I am back at work I sit on my ass all day (vs. on leave when I was afraid to sit in my house all day and drug my baby all over town and walked a whole shitload--even walking all pokey-like is better than sitting around).

I recognize that I am probably going to have to do something about this eventually. Possibly work out, definitely stop eating the way I have been (which is whatever I want). But in the mean time I have to stop worrying about how things are not The Same.

Jeans are my toughest thing. Because my pre-preggos fit just fine. Except, well there is some hanging. And the hanging is not ok with me. I recognize the irony because y'all I preached the low-rise. Not the super low-rise that requires waxing or anything but a nice low-rise jean was just the ticket for some one with curvy hips, bigger legs but a small waist. Especially with as much junk in the trunk as I rock. But I don't have a small waist anymore. And sadly the flat stomach is gone. So everyone I urged to wear low-rise that was like BITCH BE CRAZY well I see your point.

But being a girl with a small waist but real hips and thighs meant jeans were a challenge. There were like two brands that worked at all. And well, now I have a hanging stomach. I wish there were another way of putting that. I wish there was another reality but . . .there is skin, there is pudge, there are cut up muscles. It's SEXAY. Also, I have lost my ability to suck it in. I have been sucking it in since I was twelve years old. Twenty-seven years of sucking all down the drain. I love my baby but why does she have to punch my soul right in the junk?

So I have been wearing one pair of mid-rise jeans since I had Mo. They are mid-rise (which means they are like five fingers below the belly button. And they are ok, and frankly I would love them if I could suck it in. But I can't and well there is some spillage. So after a couple of weeks of depressing try ons. . . well. I bought mom jeans.

Now they are not 1980's taper legged nonsense. From the hip down they look like fashion jeans. But they are practically up to my armpits just trying to mush all that shit in. I feel a little bit crushed by it honestly, and a little horrified to be admitting this shit on the internet. This is way worse than that time I told y'all about when I got a tampon stuck in my delicate lady parts (notice no link though DIGNITY). I feel all neutered and unsexy and like I am terribly unattractive. And sadly, these jeans still make me feel better about myself than the ones I was wearing. I paid money to feel this bad.

But at least my belly won't be hanging.

1 comment:

Frank said...

Isn't dressing Mo in Yankee's paraphernalia a form of child abuse? ;-)