For what it’s worth, mentally, I don’t think I’m 100% ready for all of this massive mid-section growth that is currently happening and will continue to happen until February. Then, at the point the sprout is out and enjoying the world sans womb, I will be working like a mad person trying to get my bulbous belly back to better-than-before status.
I’ve always had issues with body image. I never think I’m thin enough, mostly. And I think I take horrid pictures. This is all probably because I’m a girl and for whatever (messed up) reason, society says girls are supposed to be thin and svelte and beautiful and perfect.
And a post-baby body does not a svelte woman make.
So, here I am, 16 weeks knocked up with too many more weeks left to count and a body that has yet to really get “pregnant.” I mean, yes, I’m “pregnant” but obviously, I’ve yet to really *look* the part. I feel it, no doubt, even though I’m quite positive I’d get the evil eye if I up and decided to park in a maternity parking spot. I know I’m not waddle-worthy of that space yet, anyway, but I’m trying to build a case, here, people.
All my life I’ve felt like I’ve been chasing some magical number on the scale. I found out that the weight range for my 5’10 amazon woman height is between 135 – 165 pounds.
What do you think was the first thing I told Tim after learning this bit of knowledge?
“I’m going to weigh between 140 and 145 after the kid pops out. Maybe I’ll go for 135.”
(Obviously, I weighed more than that pre-pregnancy…but still within the range of 135-165)
Tim was all, “You’ll look like an emaciated orphan at 135…and at 140.”
But isn’t that what we’re going for, here? I thought super thin was in!
(Disclaimer: It’s actually not. It’s totally not healthy and the rational part of me completely understands that)
Yet, I still have that weight of 140-145 (maybe 135??) in my brain as a goal for after the baby. AND I have a certain weight I don’t want to surpass during pregnancy. Now, whether I attain that pregnancy weight limit goal or not will depend, mostly, on how much I can resist eating Taco Bell.
IT’S WHAT THE BABY WANTS.
I’m just the vessel, here.
Now, I know you’re all, “Seriously? You’re going here with the fat talk? You think YOU are fat (or, were fat post-pregnancy)? There is something wrong with you. Obviously.”
And to all you nay-sayers, welcome to Team Tim, who says to me allllllllllllllllllllll the time that I’m the only person who thinks I’m fat (Was fat. I, at least, have figured out and completely understand that Pregnancy ≠ fat. Pregnancy = baby).
Part of me believes him because part of me thinks I’ll still believe I’m fat even *if* I attain whatever magical number I deem “skinny.”
All of this? Probably something that needs to be fixed before I unknowingly start making the little sprout self conscious and fearful of the scale, checking his/her body at every angle to make sure they don’t look poofy.
I don’t need to create an anorexic child. That thought alone scares me into submission with the fat talk.
So, yet another thing for me to try and conquer before I start actually influencing the tiny human being I will be responsible for (*gulp*).
This next part, well……I’m not exactly sure where it falls into the whole being a good role model but, my saving grace (if that’s even an appropriate phrase) for when all baby making is said and done is that Tim has promised me (you so did, honey) that I could get “work” done on an area that ends up saggy or not like it was before.
Namely the boobs and/or the stomach.
That’s like the ace in my pocket. I might binge on Taco Bell and gain 100 pounds and have the flattest, most pancakey boobs ever seen by man, but watch out! I’ll be one hot mamma after I visit Plastics!
Not that I even want to go through that…truthfully…but I like to know it’s there as an option if things get entirely out of control.
Is that shallow or is it normal?
I have no idea.