This post hasn't been easy to write. I've been trying to find the words, to try and cheer it up, but that has just resulted in quietly, privately, agonizing over something that I know a lot of people have felt before, or are currently feeling.
I have only lost 25 of the 40 pounds I gained when I was pregnant with Genevieve. I can't blame not being able to shed the pounds on anyone but myself- I was down to 8 lbs above my pre-pregnancy weight when I started *really* making ice cream last year. And then the scale crept up, the way it always does when my beloved ice cream and I rediscover our love for each other.
Me? I love the flavor, the texture, the euphoria that comes with each bite. And my beloved ice cream? Sticks to me like a faithful friend.
More specifically, it sticks to my rear end, making it more ample and ensuring the legacy that my mother bequeathed upon me, which her mother bequeathed upon her, which I will pass on to Genevieve. An ample behind. A bodacious booty. A big butt.
The first time I noticed it was my birthday, when Andrew gave me a 10-class yoga gift certificate. It came with a very nice note, but all I saw was subtext. And the subtext read, "IT'S BEEN NEARLY A YEAR AND YOU ARE STILL FAT. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FATSO."
I didn't cry in front of my guests, but there were tears, later.
How do you reconcile not liking what you see in the mirror with wanting to raise a confident daughter with a positive body image? I feel like a hypocrite, but I know that I haven't ever felt this way about my body before.
The worst part is how keenly aware I have been; when you're crawling and squatting to play, you notice when you don't have room to move in your pants. After two months of letting my vanity win out, I gave up and bought larger pants. Fat pants.
You know what? I'm happier. I can comfortably play on the floor and the pants *look* better on me- imagine that, pants that fit properly LOOK better, too. The only problem is my perception of the number on the label.
What I can't manage to do is get out and *go* to yoga. But the great thing about yoga is that you can do it basically anywhere, with barely anything. So, I'm going to start doing yoga with Genevieve, and hopefully a combination of the yoga and the mouse-wrangling will yield some positive results.
(I also got fat yoga pants, since getting into my regular yoga pants was like trying to stuff too much filling into uncooperative sausage casing. There is nothing that motivates you less than your *exercise* clothes being too tight.)
Part of having positive body image is learning healthy habits. I need to model these if not only for my own health, but for Genevieve's as well.
Fortunately, I have my own personal trainer, who is a huge fan of long walks.