Hitting Publish

My body is not the same since I had the baby.

This is not shocking. In the past year, well, I have done nothing. I ate what I wanted while I nursed and lost thirty pounds in two weeks. Then I held on to that last ten pounds. Then I went back to work and gained back a couple. And it's all in different places.

I've read Linda. I know that it doesn't have to be this way. But clearly, I have not made losing weight a priority and when I am honest with myself.

I am not going to.

At least not right now. And I am a huge believer in dressing the body you have now. Since I can wear my pre-baby jeans well I was. But this was a terrible idea. Low-rise should not be happening for me, possibly ever. I decided that I was going to buy a great pair of jeans because I was tired of feeling like I was failing every time I put on pants.

I just decided to buy the same jeans, one size up. Well. No.

Muffin top. Bad muffin top. And worse, this was the largest size they made. Those of you who have sprung for designer jeans know that the whole point is the fit. If they do not fit perfectly than do not bother. And then I noticed the salesgirl gearing up to ask me something.

"We do have these in our plus size department."

I admit it, I hesitated. I wasn't offended and was actually glad she mentioned it. But I am ashamed to admit that I was ashamed. I don't think badly of plus sized women, in fact I think I made fun of my mother for caring about her size. I mean, as some one with four sizes of pants in her closet that fit, I know that women's sizing makes zero logical sense so there really is no point in worrying about it.

Except apparently I really didn't want to be plus sized.

But up to that department I went. And . . .no one stared. Customers in other departments did not fling things at me. No one screeched "YOU ARE TOO THIN FOR THIS DEPARTMENT." I was oddly sure both of those things would happen.

And they fit. No muffin top, no pulling at the legs. Ass up where it should be.

I should have been thrilled. Good jeans are a Holy Grail. But I admit it took me longer than it should have to decide to buy them.

I got home, blacked out the size and immediately loved them more.

I am angry. I am angry with myself for feeling this way. I am angry that I live in a world where women are supposed to be ashamed of being plus sized. I am sad that apparently my self-esteem is tied to an arbitrary number. And I am embarrassed at how much I am hesitating to type this at all.

But I am hitting publish.