Ok, so, normally, I'm a pretty balanced person. I'm outgoing and happy. I try not to let the little things get to me. Lately, that's changed, and for obvious reasons (*cough* baby *cough*) and the issue I keep circling back to is body image.It's serious enough when you're not pregnant, but add a growing baby and waistline and sometimes it becomes difficult not to succumb to low self-esteem.
Don't misunderstand me here. I love being pregnant and I would gladly gain 1000 pounds if it meant my baby would be healthy, but, when I go to my doctor and all I keep hearing is "Oh, 2 more pounds this week," or "3 pounds gained since last time," I can't help but feel dejected. It doesn't help that all the literature I read online tells me that the average weight gain is about a pound per week at this stage in my pregnancy. So, is it any wonder that I feel like a hippo?
The remaining sane part of my brain tells me that I should shove aside all these cares and focus on getting through this last month and then taking care of a newborn, but, the insane parts are a little louder when the shout back the worry and fear I might not lose the weight, how long will it take? Can I do it, what if I get lazy? Etc, etc, etc. It doesn't help that I unfairly pin some of my anxiety on my husband. I think, "God, how unattractive must I look to him?" "Will he still think I'm pretty with all this excess weight?" "What if my body isn't his ideal anymore?" And truth be told, this is the main root of my problems. My husband. I want to be like drop dead gorgeous after I give birth. I want him to be proud of the hot wife he has who also just had a baby and I want to be that way because I love him. Because, a small part of me, whether you agree or not, wants to give him that; give him the size 4 wife with the banging body and is super hot. It's a dilemma I sturggle with daily. All these fears and wants.
I know that in order to be there for my child I must take care of myself. I won't crash diet or starve myself or any crazy stuff, but do I want the speedy fix like all these celebrities? Heck ya! I also know I don't make millions of dollars a year to afford the chefs, nannies, personal trainers and expensive gyms these women employ. I also know that my career doesn't hinge on my ability to sell myself, my look and my body. Thank God. However, I do wish I could at least experience that quick-fix. I know to lose the baby weight and keep it off it'll take me a few months and that's ok..pace myself and do it right, but, won't there be days when I slack off? When I ignore the fruit and reach for the donut? Of course. And I need to learn that's ok. I can't be 100% all the time. Can I? But, can I embrace my new shape for however long I have it? Can I accept myself and the way I look for the time being? That's the truth I must figure out.
Society tells me I should; it tells me I should be proud of my body no matter what shape or size it is and no matter how many pounds I gain or lose. Easier said than done society. You haven't gained 44 pounds in 9 months. It's not your unfamiliar face that stares back at you from the mirror every time you look at it or the pants that seem to get a little tighter everytime you put them on that you have to wear. Society is right. I think I'm right in feeling the way I do, because it is such a huge change to go from happily married couple to pregnant mommy to be. A WONDERFUL change, but a huge change nonetheless.
As I sit and battle my demons and have you witness it, I know that the truth about baby weight isn't just simple or clean or pretty or beautiful or serene or any multitude or nice adjectives you can think of. It's messy and hard and a struggle and the pressure put on women to always be skinny and groomed and made up affects us pregnant ladies too. Perhaps more so than our childless counterparts. Jessica Simpson just shot a nude cover for a magazine and she's pretty darn pregnant and she loved it and felt totally comfortable and embraced her whole body. I'll bet you she has her down days too. ;)
I don't mean to sound depressed or disgusted by my own self, I am merely thinking aloud about my fluctuating feelings regarding this issue. I'm healthy and happy and am awaiting the arrival of the single greatest miracle of my life. What's 44 pounds compared to that?
Don't misunderstand me here. I love being pregnant and I would gladly gain 1000 pounds if it meant my baby would be healthy, but, when I go to my doctor and all I keep hearing is "Oh, 2 more pounds this week," or "3 pounds gained since last time," I can't help but feel dejected. It doesn't help that all the literature I read online tells me that the average weight gain is about a pound per week at this stage in my pregnancy. So, is it any wonder that I feel like a hippo?
The remaining sane part of my brain tells me that I should shove aside all these cares and focus on getting through this last month and then taking care of a newborn, but, the insane parts are a little louder when the shout back the worry and fear I might not lose the weight, how long will it take? Can I do it, what if I get lazy? Etc, etc, etc. It doesn't help that I unfairly pin some of my anxiety on my husband. I think, "God, how unattractive must I look to him?" "Will he still think I'm pretty with all this excess weight?" "What if my body isn't his ideal anymore?" And truth be told, this is the main root of my problems. My husband. I want to be like drop dead gorgeous after I give birth. I want him to be proud of the hot wife he has who also just had a baby and I want to be that way because I love him. Because, a small part of me, whether you agree or not, wants to give him that; give him the size 4 wife with the banging body and is super hot. It's a dilemma I sturggle with daily. All these fears and wants.
I know that in order to be there for my child I must take care of myself. I won't crash diet or starve myself or any crazy stuff, but do I want the speedy fix like all these celebrities? Heck ya! I also know I don't make millions of dollars a year to afford the chefs, nannies, personal trainers and expensive gyms these women employ. I also know that my career doesn't hinge on my ability to sell myself, my look and my body. Thank God. However, I do wish I could at least experience that quick-fix. I know to lose the baby weight and keep it off it'll take me a few months and that's ok..pace myself and do it right, but, won't there be days when I slack off? When I ignore the fruit and reach for the donut? Of course. And I need to learn that's ok. I can't be 100% all the time. Can I? But, can I embrace my new shape for however long I have it? Can I accept myself and the way I look for the time being? That's the truth I must figure out.
Society tells me I should; it tells me I should be proud of my body no matter what shape or size it is and no matter how many pounds I gain or lose. Easier said than done society. You haven't gained 44 pounds in 9 months. It's not your unfamiliar face that stares back at you from the mirror every time you look at it or the pants that seem to get a little tighter everytime you put them on that you have to wear. Society is right. I think I'm right in feeling the way I do, because it is such a huge change to go from happily married couple to pregnant mommy to be. A WONDERFUL change, but a huge change nonetheless.
As I sit and battle my demons and have you witness it, I know that the truth about baby weight isn't just simple or clean or pretty or beautiful or serene or any multitude or nice adjectives you can think of. It's messy and hard and a struggle and the pressure put on women to always be skinny and groomed and made up affects us pregnant ladies too. Perhaps more so than our childless counterparts. Jessica Simpson just shot a nude cover for a magazine and she's pretty darn pregnant and she loved it and felt totally comfortable and embraced her whole body. I'll bet you she has her down days too. ;)
I don't mean to sound depressed or disgusted by my own self, I am merely thinking aloud about my fluctuating feelings regarding this issue. I'm healthy and happy and am awaiting the arrival of the single greatest miracle of my life. What's 44 pounds compared to that?
