Why is baby weight such a taboo subject? Forgive the following rant, but the issue is really starting to annoy me. Any woman who has had her body taken over for the best part of a year has the right to feel whatever way she so wishes about said body.
I gave birth 3 months ago now, and having gained almost 5 stone during the pregnancy, it was always going to be hard to lose it. I was unlucky, I didn’t just have a beautiful neat little bump, I had a monstrosity and the rest. My work blazers stopped going over my shoulders at about 7 months, and it was a downward – or should I say outward – spiral from there.
My feet wouldn’t be cajoled into my size 7 shoes (though I was living in the one pair of flat boots I owned by then anyway). I now own every size bra from 34B upwards as far as 36DD. My thighs would only pour themselves into cotton maternity leggings. Said thighs absolutely HAD to have some form or material between them at all times for fear I’d grate a layer of skin from them, and even maternity tights were a bit on the tight side around my non existent waist. By the time I reached 39 weeks and 5 days, I had given up sitting on the couch, just to avoid the weight lifting session that would be required in order for me to take a vertical stance once again.
Now, I’m not unrealistic. I knew damn well I’d be leaving hospital with most of that weight still intact. And I did. But as the weeks have ticked on, I’m starting to wonder if I will ever feel normal again. A friend of mine was flat stomach-ed two weeks after giving birth to her little boy. Even though I knew at the time that not everyone is that lucky, her boucebackability was such a tease. The same girl had a weeny bump right throughout her pregnancy, and her arms didn’t inflate to the size of Michelin Man’s, but even so, I let myself dream that I too would wear sleeveless tops this summer. Not so.
The weight is slowly starting to go. As I had a C Section, I didn’t exercise until 6 weeks after I gave birth. I’m trying to eat well, and I feel I’ve done a decent job of that so far, but I have plateaued 2 stone above the weight I once was. And I’m not happy. And I’m allowed to be “not happy”. Yes, as everyone feels the need to point out, OF COURSE I love my little man to bits – more than life itself. But I was also quite fond of the size 10 figure I had last year, not to mention the wardrobe full of clothes I still can’t wear.
My girlfriends mean well, but I wish they would stop telling me I look great, and that I’ve got my figure back “really well”. I know it’s meant in the best possible way, but the way I see it, (probably still in something of a hormonal state to be fair), is that they thought I was this size last year, AND I WASN’T!!! Celebrate with me when I can wear my clothes again. Until then, let me avoid bread in peace, without the singsong “Oh aren’t you great, sure you don’t need to lose any more”! Rant over.
Thanks for listening friends!
Evanne xxx
