Do you ever not realize how much weight you’ve gained until you actually see yourself in a photo someone has taken?
When I see myself in a picture, I look different than I “see” myself in my mind.
When I look at myself in the mirror, sure, I know I am heavier than I used to be before getting pregnant with my first kid 4 years ago. But I don’t look how I do when I see a physical still picture of myself.
Here I am, thinking I’m looking all cute as I’m totally having a good hair day (rare – usually it looks like a fuzzy lions mane and I give up and just bun it up on top of my head), my skin is on point, and I look super snatched in my black romper. (The color black is supposed to be slimming right?) So why the hell do I get my bubble popped when I take a look at the picture my friend posted and tagged me in on Facebook and I look like I need to have flashing lights, a reverse beeper, a red flag on each hip to signal a “wide load” coming through?
Am I fatter than I really think I am, or what? Am I just in denial or something?!
I’m exactly 20 lbs heavier than my prepregnancy weight. Not really a whole ton of a lot when you really think about it. I don’t know, I guess what one would consider “a lot” or “a little” is quite subjective. Nevertheless, if you see pictures of me before kids versus how I look now, it is absolutely noticeable but not terrible (in my opinion).
I haven’t researched this phenomenon (lol). But I’m going to go ahead and hope that I look fatter in pictures because of the way camera lenses are shaped, or something technical like that. I also know that certain angles can make you look like a beached whale, while another angle can make you look like an hourglass Jessica Rabbit. (Catfish, anyone? Ha!)
But when its all said and done, here’s the thing… I don’t care.
Of course, I’d like to be in perfect shape again. (Who wouldn’t?!) I joined a gym a few weeks ago, but I’m not obsessed with it. And if you read my post on what my real reason for joining a gym is, you’d know that it ain’t really to get in shape anyways! Although losing some pounds would obviously be a bonus.
But getting my body back just isn’t my top priority anymore. I guess when I was younger, like in my 20s, having a “hot” body was close to the top of the list. That and wearing cute clothes to show off that hot body. I think once I had kids, how “hot” my body looks got knocked down close to the bottom of the list. For me, being a good mom and partner got bumped up to the very top.
Don’t get this idea of mine confused with being unhealthy. I still try and eat healthy foods, drink water only (except for my 1 cup of coffee in the morning), and take my vitamins daily. Although not every day, I do physical activity such as bike riding with the kids, walking to the park, and cardio at the gym.
I’m 20lbs heavier. I’m now a size 12 in pants and I have to purchase size large clothes. I’m jiggly everywhere. After the second kid my ab muscles now has diastasis recti, so unless I make a strong effort to hold in, my stomach looks like I’m about 6 months pregnant at all times. I lucked out and didn’t get stretch marks or loose skin, but I’ve got cellulite for days on my thighs and bottom. After pumping and breastfeeding for 2 kids, my boobs definitely lost some of their perkiness. And, my hair is still recovering from the postpartum hair loss (twice – thanks to having 2 kids back to back) so I’ve got annoying short-haired new growth all over my head.
But who cares.
I mean really, whooooo cares. I mean, come on – I grew two humans, you guys. GREW them. Inside my body. It’s kind of expected that my body will look a tad different. And ultimately, my body is nobody else’s business but mine, so if there is someone who does want to think something of it, then they can do an about face and kick rocks. Or, they can sit up there on their high horse and continue to judge all they want. Doesn’t hurt me any. Because I’m going to continue on about my day while they waste theirs trying to decide why I’m not worthy enough to be up on that level of horse with them. Cool, cool. Do you, Booboo. Float that boat.
What matters is, I’m happy.
I’m happy! I’m happy with myself. I don’t necessarily love my postpartum body, but how my body looks doesn’t really phase me and therefore does not alter my “happiness meter” at all. I’ve got my health. I’ve got my 2 mini humans who are the air I breathe, and they sure don’t care how I look and they love me unconditionally. The best kind of love is a child’s love! And, for the most part, I think I’m doing a decent job at parenting them, too, which makes me feel good. (That reminds me, anyone have any tips on how to survive the three-nager stage? Cause, man, this kid has lost his damn mind half the time. And they said “terrible two’s” was tough! Pshhh… The 3’s are a whole other level of crazy. Send reinforcements!)
So yeah, I’m fat and happy. Keyword: HAPPY!
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