I could write more glowing, happy, nauseating posts about the wonderousness of my life, but after 3+ weeks in blissdom, I've just about had enough of me. Not that the shine is wearing off, because life is still harmonious and wonderful to a backing track of harps and pan pipes (OK perhaps not that bad). But there are certain, shall we say, unromantic realities that are refusing to stay in soft focus.
Firstly, I loved being pregnant. Well aside from the being sick and the not sleeping and the fatigue etc. But what I do love is my body. Naked, clothed, wearing trackies and bed socks... all looks good. Truly, a pregnant belly is the accessory that goes with everything. It helps that I both lose a fair whack of weight at first as well as not gain much in the end, so it's all focused in a ball in front. My hair looks incredible while pregnant, all shine and lustre and even after 5 days barely any grease. And awesomely, this time, maybe the boy hormones or something, I had perfect skin. Glowy, dewy, pregnant skin.
All those lovely hormones have left now. As has the becoming belly accessory. And now, what we have left, is not appealing. It sags, it's dry, it's oily, it flubs out around straps and bras and pant tops. It's like someone has deflated me, and my self esteem has gone hissing out with it.
When I'm not sleeping and breastfeeding pretty much constantly, all I want is sugar. Not your complex carbs and fruit that I crave in pregnancy, but a packet of mint slice (the WHOLE packet). Donuts, just for their icing. Cakes. Packet chocolate mousse. No sleep + sugar + postnatal hormones + age is surprisingly not the answer for an attractive visage. It is however great if you want to relive the memories of being a 19 year old with a hangover.
I loved getting dressed while pregnant. I loved shopping while pregnant. Aside from a couple of tantrums when I couldn't find what I precisely wanted, I loved that everything was firm enough so that it looked pretty decent. Something I hadn't experienced in years.
I want it back. I don't care if people ask me when I'm due, I'll live with that for the ability to dress without wishing I owned Nancy Ganz. It is impossible to dress my body in its current gelatinous state. The only thing that fits properly are pyjamas, and sadly fashion has not caught up with the wonder that is flannelette.
Nothing in my wardrobe fits at the moment. Most of the pre-pregnancy clothes are too big, or they are slimfit, showing off the muffin top that spills over even my pregnancy jeans. Shirts strain over the explosion of bosom. And everything is cheap and nasty or maternity - remnants from my "I will buy clothes when I get to my goal weight... oh fuck I'm pregnant" phase. I tried on clothes in David Jones today, and kept picking clothes that were too big for me. Even the assistants would give me a quick once over, hand me a Sz14 or equivalent and then would look astonished when they were too big. Because I look big, the lack of tone making everything look wider like a side show mirror.
So I'm going back to the gym tomorrow. Reactivating my dormant membership and getting back on the treadmill and banning myself from simple sugars. Every other puerperal period I have lost weight immediately at birth and within a month or so been up to the same saggy weight or more. I am determined not to do that again. I want to be happy again when I get dressed, even without the belly :(