After my daughter was born, my figure bounced back pretty quickly. I had a little saggy skin on my abdomen, but otherwise I returned to normal almost immediately. I was back in my old clothes at 6 weeks; only the tenderness of my scar kept me in yoga pants until I returned to work.
Not so this time. Well, I’m pretty much back where I was when I got pregnant, plus a couple extra pounds that are most likely attributable to breastfeeding. But I was hoping I’d be back where I was before I started trying to get pregnant. They tell you breastfeeding burns 500+ calories a day, and that the pounds just melt off.
Oh, I suppose they’re not lying. But that is not true of all of us. Some of us just stop losing weight, and it takes Herculean efforts to shed 2 lbs.
I know why: The fat deposits keeping me out of my old jeans help fuel (and indeed perhaps even trigger) breast milk production. The fat that I adore on my son’s thighs is a direct result of the fat on mine. So it’s really a good thing that I put on those extra pounds before I tried to get pregnant; I probably would not be able to breastfeed otherwise.
Doesn’t mean I like the way I look, though. I feel like I’m in someone else’s body. Thick through the middle, tree trunk thighs, flat butt (okay, that part I’m cool with, after going all Kardashian before I got pregnant), huge (for me) boobs. (Why did I ever think I wanted big boobs? They are miserable.)
|Blurry gif stolen from FB. Yes, I am a C-section Queen. I can deal with that. It’s everything else.
It’s not that I’m wishing for a more socially acceptable figure. I’m not trying to meet anyone else’s standards, or gain any outside approval. It’s not a bad body — lots of people would be happy to have it, I know. It’s that it is not my body. I don’t know how to dress it. I squish where I never used to squish. And jiggle. Everything jiggles. I feel…foreign.
I love what this body does. I adore being able to feed my son. I am proud of every roll of fat on his round little body. I love how close we are because of the time we’ve spent breastfeeding. There’s that.
I know it is totally uncool of me to admit this stuff. I’m supposed to be all “I love my babymaking body.” And I don’t want my daughter to hear me dis my bod. So I try to keep a lid on my angst. But I sure would like to feel like myself again. Just some scrap of who I used to be.
I also really don’t want to have to go buy all new clothes.