My Stubborn Post-Baby Weightclairegoss
I have an obnoxious confession: for years I have been one of those women who never talked or worried about weight.
Yes, I would go 5 pounds up or down on the scale depending on the time of year (hello, Thanksgiving) but I have been blessed with a wonderful metabolism, so if my jeans ever got tight I would just eat well for a couple weeks and be fine.
Did I lose you? Are you thinking right now about how annoying I am, bragging about my skinny ass? FYI, I am not that woman anymore. I got smacked in the face with a blunt reality stick, in the form of my third pregnancy.
I honestly don’t know what made my last pregnancy different from the others. I ate healthy foods and tried to exercise. I didn’t do as much yoga as usual, but I made up for it by chasing my 3 and 5 year-olds around. I gained the same amount of weight with all three of my pregnancies (30 pounds). And yet…when I went for my post-partum checkup in August and got on the scale I was shocked (and depressed) to discover I had only lost 9 of those pounds. I was/am 20 pounds overweight. Truth.
I have no problem broadcasting this in a public way. I wasn’t exactly proud that I’m still overweight but I wasn’t crushed. There’s no shame in my game. My husband still thinks I’m a fox and I’m trying to be fragile with myself and not freak out. I was juggling a lot this summer and I’m exclusively breastfeeding which makes me crazy hungry, so I just fed my body and moved on with my life. I felt no rush to bounce back celebrity-style from this pregnancy.
And then this week I had an incident. I was at a home improvement store yesterday with my 3 year-old and the baby was in his stroller, snoozing. My biggest kid was at school. I asked the cashier for the date as I was signing something. When she replied that it was the 18th, I said, “No! It couldn’t be! I thought it was the 10th! How did I lose a whole week?” And she replied, “Well, with two kids and a third on the way you must just be really tired!”
I kept my eyes focused on the paper I was signing but I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment. She thought I was pregnant. I’m still so fat she thought I was pregnant right now. I yanked my shirt further down over my belly, blinked back a few tears, and retreated to my car.
Don’t worry, the presumptuous cashier didn’t shatter my self-confidence. But it was *certainly* a wake-up call.