To all women who gained the recommended 25-35 pounds during pregnancy, stop reading and go have a cheeseburger and chocolate malt. To all normal moms who flew by the 35-pound mark, this post is for you.
From a very young age, our culture teaches us we must be thin to be attractive women. We spend countless hours obsessing over diet and exercise to obtain the unrealistic Barbie doll physique. It’s no surprise the one time in our lives we’re told to gain weight, we get a little carried away. This, of course, heightens the post-partum challenge to lose the baby fat and fit into regular clothes – all while managing the new, overwhelming role of motherhood including maintaining an adequate milk supply. AHHH!!!
At a recent wedding shower I attended, a new mom showed off her amazing feat of fitting into her pre-pregnancy jeans with her daughter just 4 days old. Incredible? Her daughter weighed four pounds two ounces. I wasn’t the slightest bit envious- I’ll not complain about my extra weight if it means Li’l Man is a healthy size. On second thought, I’ll keep a reasonable perspective while I complain just a little.
I’ve heard from my momtourage, “It takes nine months to gain the weight, so allow nine months to lose the weight.” It’s difficult to hear them say this when they’re talking out their size two asses. (K, if you’re still reading this, please refer to paragraph one. Seriously, you should learn to like ice cream).
Now the real dilemma- how long do we wear yoga pants, stretchy shorts, and town gowns before buying genuine clothes? Veteran moms, help me out with this answer! Big Man has been telling me for months to go out and buy some things that fit. My problem is I’m delusional enough to think that in just a week or two, I’ll fit into my old outfits. This leads to my most recent humiliating occurrence.
Our family and friends celebrated Li’l Man’s baptism last weekend. Big and I had many harried days and nights leading up to this event preparing the house for the grand luncheon. He painted the gutters and finished making beer. I scrubbed floors and dusted the blinds. He edged the lawn and drank a beer. I cleaned ceiling fans and planted flowers. He took out his suit and bought new shoes. I screamed profanities and tore apart my closet trying on every dress I own. (I really just thought profanities because I didn’t want to wake the baby).
In desperation, I called my mother hoping for some wise advice on what to wear – as if she can help me a hundred miles away! Her only words of wisdom were, “Whatever you do, don’t let your boobs hang out at church. That’s just tacky.”
Thanks, Mom. That ruled out the cute, empire-waist sundress. My only option was a black and white dress I bought last fall to wear during the parent open house. I tried it on for Big that night and asked, “Is it okay? It’s a teacher dress, so I feel kind of matronly.”
He assured me it wasn’t matronly, but offered to stay with Li’l Man so I could run to the outlet mall. What kind of mixed message is that? I love your new haircut, honey, but if you want to wear a wig, go ahead. It was 8:30 the night before the baptism. I called the store and they closed at nine. I could have made a mad dash there and gambled they’d have something in my size and decent (covering the ta-tas), but Li’l Man was due to wake up hungry any minute. The only spare breast milk in the house sat in the freezer. I opted to stay home and make peace with the teacher dress.
The great day arrived. Big and I enjoyed an accomplished moment in the car when amazingly we arrived early to church. “Ha! We pulled it off – everything is prepared and ready to go!” I walked confidently into the church holding Li’l Man. My hair was curled, my heels high, and my face glowing (yes, I even applied make-up). I felt on top of the world… until I saw my mom wearing a dress with the same, exact fabric as my own. See the picture below.