If discussing gut flab isn’t your thing, leave now, because I’m about to let it all hang out.
If there’s a word stronger than blues but less severe than depression, I’m there when it comes to how I feel about my body post-Emma. I used blues in the title because it was alliterative and I’m nothing if not a fan of a good alliteration.
Y’all, I pretty much can’t stand my body right now. I’m about 10 pounds above my pre-Emma weight (which was 10 pounds above my pre-Joshua weight) and somehow those 10 pounds have made me at least two sizes bigger. I’m officially the heaviest and biggest I’ve ever been in my life and I pretty much hate it.
I mean, on the one hand, I look at my kids and I look at my body and I’m all “HOLY CRAP! I GREW TWO HUMANS!” This Rah-Rah-ing is especially stronger after my VBAC. I grew two humans and then my body pushed one out of my vagina with no pain medicine.
That’s pretty freaking amazing and my body did it.
But then there’s two weeks ago when I wanted to take Joshua to the park and had no shorts to wear. A skirt was out because my thighs rub together so vigorously it’s like they’re trying to start a fire that would melt a glacier and really, skirts aren’t playground appropriate.
So I put on my “skinny” jeans. And by skinny jeans I only mean that the style. They certainly aren’t the smallest pair of jeans in my closet
They were snug, but they fit, so off to the park we went.
(Also, have I mentioned we live in the south? AKA the surface of the sun? If skirts aren’t playground appropriate, neither are jeans.)
While traipsing around the playground, I had a moment of panic when I stopped dead in my tracks between the fort and the swings as I realized that my gut flab was touching my thighs. INSIDE MY JEANS. Like, full on, stomach skin on thigh skin.
People.
My thigh bone may be connected to my stomach bone but my stomach and thighs are not actually supposed to touch when I’m STANDING UP AND WEARING JEANS. (There’s a little more leeway here when I’m sitting down. But not much.)
It was a million degrees that day. And I was wearing jeans AND a baby while chasing Joshua around the playground and attempting to play with him. So I decided I needed to buy some shorts.
I bought two pair in my normal size–a 16. I mean, that’s what size the jeans were, right? They didn’t fit. Like, couldn’t even get them up over my thighs they were so tight. So, I bought two more pair from a different store, in a size 18, for “breathing room.”
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They didn’t fit.
NOT A SINGLE THING IN MY CLOSET FITS.
Honest to God. Nothing.
(Just so you know, the fact that I can zip those skinny jeans doesn’t mean I should zip those skinny jeans. Or that the zipper isn’t damn near about to burst out of the seam exposing my gut flab to all the world and scaring any innocent passersby who happen to see it.)
Know what’s especially bad about nothing in your closet fitting? Aside from the nakedness and only being able to fit comfortably into yoga pants and knit skirts?
I have nothing professional to wear and I’ve got an interview on Friday morning.
I’ve been to every store I can think of and tonight, I bought a pair of “Women’s” pants. At the advice of the sales lady, I bought a 16.
The sales lady needs to go back to sales lady school. They were the wrong size.
I mean, they zipped. But I’d poured about ten pounds too much sugar into that five gallon bag if you know what I mean.
I don’t FEEL like I look two sizes bigger than I was before I got pregnant with Emma. I don’t FEEL like I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been.
Tomorrow, I’ll take those pants back and exchange them for another size. The biggest size I’ve ever owned in my life.
And then I might just have myself a good old fashioned cry.
I’d have an ice cream and a glass of wine, but that seems self-defeating.
Much love. Enjoy that ice cream & wine ~ you grew babies!
I did grow babies. But I cannot grow money to buy new clothes. 🙁
Totally understand where you are coming from…of course my babes are 4 and 22 months, so I don’t have nearly the excuse as you do (new baby!!!) I am at my pre-baby #2 weight…but that is about 20 lbs higher than my pre-baby #1 weight…which is about 20 lbs higher than my pre-wedding weight. You see where I am going don’t you? I think that being comfortable in my skin has taken me a long time, and I am finally there. Of course I am not the weight I want to be. Thinking back to the glory days of college when I could eat/drink whatever I wanted without concern…I am eating healthy, but not exercising beyond chasing my kids all day – which works for some, just not for me. I think that this summer I will try and walk more. As for clothes – I gave up buying clothes with sizes, it was too depressing. Instead, I make skirts with elastic waists or wear my trusty yoga pants 🙂 Oh, and I wear a pair of spandex type shorts when wearing a skirt…so the old thighs aren’t bothering me 😉
I think I’m quite confident and comfortable with myself in general. And I’m living in fold-over yoga skirts right now!
Spanx are you friend after having two children one of which was via c-section. I had both my girls via a c-section and no matter how much weight I loose I still have that tummy roll. It sucks but I have learned to hide it via Spanx, power panties. They make wearing skirts in the summer ok as it is like having biker shorts on underneath so your thighs don’t rub raw. I live in Houston, TX so I know all about the heat… not sure how you did not get heat stroke in jeans.
UGH. The c-section belly flap. I hate it! It’s been 2 years since my c-section and it’s still hanging around..literally.
Here’s something that’ll totally gross you out–it has a name.
It’s called the “mother’s apron.”
GAG.
I hate that damn thing.
I totally rock the Spanx. But I don’t want to rock them at the playground when it’s 100, you know?
I’m not sure how I didn’t get heat stroke either.
yeah, you grew not one, but TWO babies! that’s a lot of work and kind of wreaks havoc on your body. you’ll get your old body back, it’s just going to take some time.
xoxo
Bahahaha. I’m not even looking for my “old” body. It’s not like it was fantastic to begin with! Just something that will fit into a pair of shorts, you know?
I’ll get there. Eventually. I hope.
Here’s the thing about EBF. Lots of people say you drop weight like mad. But the reality? For a lot of us?
Your body holds onto the weight for dear life.
It needs all of its reserves to create that precious milk. If you don’t eat enough, it needs something to take it from, and then it needs to put it back in case it needs it again.
Quite miraculous, really!
Frustrating as fuck, however.
10 months out, my pants fit but my body isn’t the same shape. Primarily because my abs were hacked in half with a scalpel. But that’s neither here nor there. What got me through, from then until now, was reminding myself that the milk I was making was more important than the number tag on my pants. It was more important than just about anything. It was my number one goal and nothing was going to stop me from achieving it.
In 10 months or so, or whenever you decide to, you can tackle this. And will tackle this, moreover. But for now?
You are perfect.
Say it with me.
Perfect.
I love you!
“Frustrating as fuck.” Yes. That.
Love you, friend.
I think every mom goes through this no matter their size. Have you ever visited the website theshapeofamother.com? It helped me to read about other moms and see that my new body was very similar to lots of other women in the world. You can even post your story! Hope it helps. {Hugs}
Thank you, Jen. I know we all go through some transitioning after having babies. I know I’m far from alone in both the way my body looks and how I feel about the way my body looks. In some ways, that’s definitely comforting. In other ways, I’d like to buy us all plastic surgery.
You JUST had a baby. That skin will come back together. Now, just remind me this after I have my baby in August…
and an interview? I thought you were a sahm now? Did I miss something?
I will totally remind you in August!
I’m SAHM, yes. But I applied for an online teaching position so that I could WAHM. It’s not a guarantee. Just an avenue I’m exploring.
After I had Vicki, I went through the exact same thing. And now, on the cusp of having this baby, I am already dreading the body hate that I know I will go through. I KNOW that my body grew people and I KNOW that it takes 9 months to put it on so I shouldn’t expect it to just come off, but that doesn’t make it fun to feel like you’re in someone else’s body.
After Vicki, I bought pants 3 sizes bigger than I’ve ever worn. Then 2 sizes bigger, then 1 size, and finally I fit back into my pre-pregnancy jeans. And then I stopped trying to be fit and then I got KU again, so my pre-pg weight this time is only 3 lbs less than my pre-pg weight with Vicki. Both of which are about 30 lbs heavier than my wedding weight.
Anyway, all that is to say that I can relate and it’s totally normal to feel that way. I hope you and your body can be friends again soon. ((hugs))
It does sort of feel like this isn’t my body. I mean, I know it’s not a small body, but it doesn’t feel like an XXL body either. And somehow, the lower half of me is. And I don’t see it. Until I try to put on some pants that don’t fit. Then I see it AND feel it.
I feel your pain. I wore a 6 before getting pregnant with Mungee. Then I was edging toward 8-10 when I got pregnant with Little Brother. I had to buy new postpartum shorts because I refused to continue wearing maternity shorts. And I bought size 12s. I’ve tried to tell myself not to look at the tag and just go with what fits and is comfortable 🙂
Curious about your interview. Good luck!
You know? I can’t even FIND my maternity shorts? I’d totally rock those bad boys if I could find them.
I’m trying to tell myself the same thing–go with what fits and is comfortable, number in the tag be damned. It’s easier said than done.
(The interview is for an online teaching position so I can WAH.)
You’re only what 6 to 8 weeks out from giving birth? Definitely cut yourself some slack. We’re always our worst critics. My body was so weird for at least three to four months after giving birth to Sophia. I didn’t feel big and I didn’t think I looked that big yet all my clothes told me otherwise. I’d buy a pair of pants that fit me and then two weeks later they were too big but my smaller clothes didn’t fit. I finally realized my biggest issue was that I was buying for a body that I no longer had…my whole body shape had changed and I had to recognize that and shop for my new shape.
That’s exactly me–I don’t think I look that big, but all of my clothes tell a different story. We’re talking two separate novels here.
i felt like this for several months. Not having any clothes that fit got my ass to the gym that’s for sure! haha! I’m pretty certain the gut flab is around to stay, unforch.
I’m having serious trouble with the gym thing. The gym I’m a member of doesn’t have child care. The gym that DOES have child care is nearly 4 times as much per month. RIDICULOUS.
Miranda? You’re loved. And some of us here in your computer think you’re smart, funny, kick-ass (I mean, heck, you grew two babies inside of you), and, dare I say it, beautiful.
That second kid you just grew? Isn’t even able to pick her own nose yet. Time will pass. You will find your mojo. You will either love your body or you will change your body . . . but, well, for right now, we love you as you are.
Thanks, John. I know I’m pretty kick-ass.
And I’m glad Emma can’t pick her nose yet. Because Joshua’s in that phase and it’s about to drive me crazy.
I’m going to start by saying that you crack me the heck UP! OMG, so funny. But now, I’ll be serious and say that I totally can relate to you. After having my son one year ago, I’m still in the biggest size I’ve ever been. I’ve lost 30 pounds of baby weight but still have 35 to go; and I don’t carry it as well as I did pre-pregnancy. Now it’s like a spare tire. Bleh.
But you’re right – we grew human beings. We’re pretty much superwomen. 😉
Yeah, I don’t feel like I’m carrying this well when I catch the occasional glimpse of myself in the mirror.
I’ll tell you what, I HATE my body. HATE.
People keep telling me to be gentle with myself because I just had abdominal surgery to have a baby that my body grew taken out.
But guess what, I still feel ugly. Even if there is a reason. Fat and Ugly.
I want to take OFF this facking mother’s apron. EW!
Love you, friend.
Omg! I laughed my ass off at this post. I feel the SAME way. my daughter is just over a year. I am the heaviest I’ve ever been, my shape has gone to hell. I have two options, tuck it in and realize my waist line is a completely overblown up intertube, or let it hang over like an old creepy trucker with a deflated beer belly. Tuck it is! But not without a fight from my jeans, my overlong shirt, and later my growling belly from attempting to hold it all in. And underwear-forget trying anymore. Under the flap-they roll down, over the flap-horrific!! I have no ass too-what a great comical joke. All this extra in the front, but not enough in back to keep a simple Hanes multi-pack pair of underwear held up. I look at my daughter and I am so happy I have her, and would undergo the scar and belly again just to have her here safe. But geeze, a body doing all these wonderful things, needs to catch a break. And all those so called “support shapers” just suck in a spot and make it pudge out another area. The overflow from the “firm support” just makes the overage puffing out even more pathetic.
Ur post def made me laugh it off tonight. Waking up to it again will be a whole diff story. Have a good night ladies!