April 24, 2012 by Heather
Whenever I casually insert into a conversation that I’ve gained forty pounds thus far in my pregnancy, whoever I’m talking to sometimes says a polite lie like, “What? Oh my gosh, where?” Well, aren’t they so nice. And, obviously, doomed to you-know-where.
After careful observation and mathematical equations, I’ve determined the breakdown of my weight gain to be as follows:
- 8 lbs in my uterus (baby weighs 6, squishy stuff around him weighs 2)
- 1 lb in my boobs – 0.8 in the left one and 0.2 in the right one
- 1 lb in my face and neck region (bye bye jaw bone)
- 5 lbs of pure and delicious back fat
- and 25 lbs in my butt and thighs. TWENTY FIVE POUNDS.
My lower half has really taken it upon itself to carry the brunt of this pregnancy. I guess it didn’t want my middle part feeling left out.. who knows. It’s been a slow process too, one that I only noticed every now and then. First I noticed that my thighs were brushing up against each other when I walked, so I widened my stance until I looked like a sumo wrestler coming to take you down. Then the spread-eagle walk became a little too exaggerated and I gave in to the inner thigh rub. What else could I do?
I decided to pretend like I was Beyonce. And it worked, for about two weeks. Whenever I caught a glimpse of my rear, I’d say, “Psh. You can’t even handle this jelly,” and feel fly and stuff.
Then I started showering in our second bathroom last week, just for kicks. That’s when it all came crashing down. How was I supposed to know that the lighting in there was a little more direct and less forgiving? I came sloshing out of the shower one evening in my stretched-out birthday suit, and there it was, plain as day. My pregnant bottom – brightly shining in the mirror in all its dimpled glory. It was almost too much.. I turned away as fast as I could and tried to tell myself it was just a mirage. But like a mullet in WalMart, I had to have a second look.
So I turned back to face it, the twist-around causing my mid-back fat to fold over like a piece of bread dough or something. After poking at that for a bit, I gazed for a moment at my bottom. When did that even happen? Really, when? And how had I not noticed? No longer feeling like Beyonce and much more like a vat of cottage cheese, I turned away from the mirror and took a few deep breaths in an attempt to squelch the negative self-hate thoughts that I could feel bubbling up inside. You should not have stopped doing those lunges at 6 months because your joints hurt. You should do one hundred squats before bed tonight, no matter how bad it hurts your pelvis. You do know that your butt is the hardest thing for you to tone, right? It will probably never be the same. Ugh, gross gross gross.
I turned to face the well-lit mirror and instead of focusing on the vast expanse of my thigh spread, I focused on my big ol’ round belly, full of baby. It’s so worth it. So very worth it. And screw the squats, give your pelvis a break.
And like I do every single night, I covered myself head-to-toe in lotion, paying extra special attention to my legs and rear-end. If you can’t beat it, put extra lotion on it. That’s what I say. Moisturized fat is better than dry fat, right?
Today, after unsuccessfully trying on a few pairs of non-maternity gym shorts (my big girl shorts are in the laundry), the thigh-hating voices tried to speak up again. And I said, “Shut up right now, so help me Beyonce.” And what do you know, I found a pair of forgiving draw-string yoga capri pants in the top of the closet that don’t cling to the bad parts.
It’s easy to put 100% of our focus on the parts of ourselves we don’t particularly like. Instead of thinking, I have really great shoulders and my hair has never looked better, we think, Could these love handles get any worse? Or, Could there BE anymore pimples on my forehead right now? And the answer is YES, your love handles could get worse and YES, there could be lots more pimples. So shut up, and focus on the good. Because I can guarantee you, the good outweighs the bad. And let us not forget our copious amounts of inner beauty.
I may have a fairly disgusting naked butt right now, but it’s for a darn good reason, and I still have a whole heck of a lot of good going on other places -and I promise that you do too.
Now that’s a promise I can get behind.