Today we’re going to talk about our post-baby bodies. Oh yes we are! Get back here!
We all know the drill: Pregnancy is super bizarre. You simultaneously become even more beautiful (thick hair! amazing skin! that goddessy glow!) and yet also startlingly more troll-like than ever (oh hello, strange ankle-to-belly proportions!) And the boob leaking! Did your boobs leak too? Please say yes.
But that’s pregnancy and you’re ready for it, because pregnancy is just weird.
But then! Once you’ve been impregnated and then subsequently de-pregnated via child birth, suddenly the body you’re left with is entirely foreign to you. Nothing is where it used to be! And, your boobs! What on earth? !!! ???? Where did THOSE come from?
After the jump, let’s get personal, shall we?
Obviously, you expect certain things will happen to your body. This includes but is not limited to: a pathetic excuse for a bottom system, a wrinkly deflated balloon for an abdomen, boobs the size of cannon balls.
Then there is the stuff that catches you entirely off guard. Things like, yo feets growing. Or the way certain parts suddenly feel . . . different. Then there’s my new outtie belly button, which will never look the same again, and the permanently stretched skin on my lower back. Not to mention the complete and total restructuring of my whole body.
At four months postpartum I am suddenly dealing with an entirely new set of proportions. 36-24-36? Yeah, not quite. I’ll skip to the end and just give you the punch line: My bottom, she is flat. Like a pancake. My curves? Gone. My cankles, even! Gone! Where did they go? Could I have pushed my bottom out with my baby? (Somehow that imagery is not quite what I was going for.)
And those cankles. I keep expecting them to return from whence they’ve gone (possibly with touristy sunglasses and fanny packs on, I rather like that thought), but so far . . . shoot.
Is this the nursing? Did I also push my cankles out with the baby? (This is getting gross.)
You know, we put up with a lot (even relish in it! don’t lie) because of the approximately seven pounds of achingly beautiful, squawky, demanding little love sacks we get out of it in return. We made those babies, can you believe it? Gosh they’re worth it.
Just thinking about it and I’m ready to do it all over again.
(Especially if it means that no more of my hair will fall out. Is that how that works?
What bizarre things happened to your body after your babies left your flesh walls? Let’s commiserate. All of us newly-outtied belly buttons have to stick together!
(Another weird visual, sorry.)