“Oh you’re going to breastfeed?!?! That weight is going to fall right off!” they said.
After months of breastfeeding the most precious baby who seems to have the appetite of a Kung-Fu Panda warrior, I am perplexed with what these sweet people meant by “fall”. If “fall” means an extremely almost unnoticeable descent from a large sum to a semi-large sum then the above statement that I heard time and time again was accurate. However, I interpreted “fall” to mean a speedy and immediate difference over a short period of time. Yeaaaaaaaa wrong! Lol
Honestly, the first 30 pounds in 6 weeks did essentially fall off. I was soooo happy back in April and I was certain that at this rate not only would I be back in my pre pregnancy clothes, but I would be too small for them. But, I now believe that much of that weight was water and the rest of the pregnancy particles that were left behind after having my precious boy.
Somewhere between that joyous doctor visit and today, I realized this was going to be much harder than I thought. Thus, I became sad. My dear sweet little sister keeps saying, “Alicia, you just had a baby, give yourself some time!” But, 8 months postpartum feels like a long time and at the the heaviest weight of my lifetime feels like a luxury that I do not have. I honestly feel that as I celebrate my son being 8 months old, I can no longer say I “just” had a baby.
I feel like my “mom bod” has zipped me up tightly inside one of those suits that you wrestle in. While skinny has not exactly been a word I would ever have used to describe myself, never before have I had jiggly flesh around my waste. Never before has upward been the only angle I could take selfies from. Never before have I rushed to put on clothes as the very sight of my disrobed body seem to cause my eyes to swell with tears.
I don’t think it would have been so bad if I didn’t have a history of body image issues. At the age of 13, I had my first battle with myself through anorexia. Then, years later, as a young lady, I battled again through bulimia. I can scarcely recall a time in my life when I have been satisfied or even at peace with my body. She and I have always been at odds. Her simply trying to “be” and me trying to make her “be”… less. Praise be to God, I no longer struggle with the behaviors of the eating disorders. However, I am still working through the mental processes of being okay with the skin I am in.
(Especially this new mommy skin in all of it’s extra stretchy,kind of tiger striped-ish glory!)
In the meantime, I am working on developing a healthier lifestyle. Nothing drastic like the carb-less, meat-less, sugar-less, salt-less, taste-less grapefruit, overnight lose ten pounds in ten seconds get fit quick schemes that I wish really worked. Over the last few weeks, I’ve just been doing an old fashion one day at time diet change and regular work out regime. For the first time in my life, I am committed to changing my whole life with no gimmicks, which is hard for me because I am the woman who wants to workout three days and drop a dress size. But, what has helped has been my tribe.
My tribe, a small group of women, who are also on the healthy lifestyle/weight loss journey that live in various locations. We text each other most everyday and are honest about our mess ups and successes. We comfort and console each other, give swift kicks to the rear when necessary, give advice, a listening ear and prayer when needed.
As you can imagine, this is daily because we are all busy women trying to do something new for ourselves and I am not going to lie, finding the time to workout as a work at home mom feels impossible some days. In the midst of baby food, poop, breastfeeding, laundry, my business, more poop, more breastfeeding, diaper changes, pee to the face, diaper change, tend to the Mr., cook dinner, poop, and all of the other things I can’t remember to mention, when am I supposed to workout? Better yet, why do all of those things fail to count as working out or at least burn a significant amount of calories? I mean I am definitely tired afterwards.
Nevertheless, I keep going no matter how far I fall behind because I want to be better than I have ever been for myself. I want to outrun my son and beat my family’s health statistics. I want to make my husband prouder than he already says he is. I want to, for once, do something good for my body so that she is healthy inside and out. I don’t know how many days that I am in, but I know I intend for this to last forever.
So if you are a lady who’s story sounds a bit like mine, build a tribe or come join mine. We can email, text, tweet, DM on Instagram, or Snap on Snapchat just look up SimplyA.Marie. Whatever works for you. We will do it, because I believe you deserve to love you and wear skinny jeans if you want to..
T0 be continued…