Today the maternity pants that I wore were falling off me. It felt great to have to hoist them up over and over again. I love that feeling, a clear and evident sign that you are shrinking.
I got cocky. I tried on a pair of pre-pregnancy pants. Pants with a button and zipper. There was a solid two inches between the button and buttonhole.
At the end of the day as I lay on the couch watching an episode of ‘What Not to Wear’ I saw a woman who was still wearing maternity pants when her son was eight years old. I looked down at the flop of a shapeless belly that I still have and thought, ‘Never?’ Will this belly go away? Will I look about four months pregnant for the rest of my life?
I think the only full length mirror in our house is a fun house mirror, in a very un-fun way. I’ll look at myself in our bathroom mirror and think,
‘Not too bad, I can see my cheekbones, haven’t seen those in a few months. Oh, look my collarbones are back! I’ve always liked them…’ I stand up on my tiptoes and squint at the belly. 'Sigh, looking smaller,' I will myself to believe. Then it happens I catch a shot of myself in the mirror mounted on the back of Emma’s door…
‘Stink! I look huge! Who am I kidding?’ I think it’s a fat mirror. I almost have scientific proof of this; I was sitting on the floor playing with Emma and holding Carys, I glanced up and noticed that in that mirror at that exact moment my head looked tiny and the forearm that was holding Carys looked like Popeye’s.
It’s a little warped, maybe?
Carys slept freakishly slept through the night last week. I was visibly smaller. I think if I slept well for a few nights in a row my body would heal in leaps and bounds.
Cruel, isn’t it?
And I am so hungry all the time. And all I want is chocolate and coffee. Fistfuls of chocolate because it no longer gives me heartburn. Gallons of coffee because I AM just so tired and now it’s guilt free.
So I don’t look in that mirror anymore, because who needs it? I try not to think about sleeping through the night, because I know that’s going to take awhile. And I don’t eat fistfuls of chocolate and drink gallons of coffee, because that will only turn me into some mild version of a drug addict…the beginning of a slippery slope….it all started with caffeine when she had her second kid, and now in jail for possession of contraband espresso….do you have the picture of me in your head all coked out on Snickers bars? Chocolate smeared across my mouth, dark circles under my eyes, yelling,
‘It’s okay, it’s good for me, it has peanuts in it…good source of protein!”
I know my abdominals are still stretched out, and I know it just takes time. I think I’m following the trajectory that I followed last time. It’s still hard. Actually the ‘it’ in question is not hard; really ‘it’ resembles a melted water bed right now.
Nine months on, and nine months off, right?
So in seven months I should be able to button those pants....