Mum Bod…

 

I’ve never been one to have a killer body at the best of times. I’m like a well upholstered arm chair, I tend to be well covered. This lack of focus on my physique pre pregnancy however, did not mean that I failed to see what has now become my well I guess, “Mum Bod”.

 

I get it I made a human and I did have a massive watermelon hanging off the front of me by the time 9 months rolled around; but I just don’t know that anything can prepare you for the doughy little cream puff you become postpartum. I even remember thinking to myself at 32 weeks “I’m not even that big…” WRONG FELICIA you were massive and you went another 9 weeks after that girlfriend! Green Peace nearly had to step in because they thought you were gonna get beached at Bondi!

30 weeks pregnant

Upon leaving hospital I felt so gross like a puffa fish in defense mode. I just had thighs down to my toes which themselves had turned into overstuffed little enchiladas. A couple of days later the swelling had largely just disappeared, I had ankles again and even knees it was amazing!!!

 

Thanks to the involuntary bulimia I experienced for 9 months I had now walked out of pregnancy ten kilos lighter than when I started it. Not a bad innings for someone who’s middle name should be “Cake”.

For a few weeks I was feeling good! I was wearing high waisted (and very supportive) black activewear and every time a guest came to visit the first words out of their mouth were “wow you look really good”. It figures I mean my milk came in taking up a whole lot of real estate and nearly promising me the stretch marks I hadn’t yet received and I was smaller than the last time they saw me not as a Brood Mare. My own eyes were impressed because I guess they hadn’t seen me look like this either for quite some time. Naturally I thought now is the time to try on some non stretch clothing because “GUURL you lookin’ fine!!!”

……….awkward silence…….

Standing in front of my mirror with my jeans half way up my thighs and now paused at a road block I realised that I was quite a long way away from the Sports Illustrated shoot which only moments before I was feeling quite confident about. My eyes suddenly readjusted to my new norm and reassured me that I was in fact an apple turnover and not a carrot stick and that I should pull my head in a little. It’s very fortunate for me that I never cared much for anyone else’s opinion prior to this journey and so I would continue with that mantra now however, it is still quite a shock to the system when you have a Shallow Hal moment with yourself and your jeans on very little sleep and cracked nipples.

In any case I’ve decided to take it easy on myself because right now my sole job and responsibility is to care for the tiny little human who is currently napping (thank you Jesus). He needs to suck the life out of me (literally) in order for him to become robust enough to tackle everything life is going to throw at him and I want to give him the best shot ever at that. So I think for now I’ll just stay in survival mode for the sake of giving all my energy to him which does unfortunately include not washing my hair for many, many days and be proud of the fact that I made a human.

DISCLAIMER: All of this is much easier said than done and involves many tears…

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