It's all relative

Disclosure: This is about my physical appearance. I don't like to admit that body issues bother me--I am beyond the typical body compulsions that most American women feel, all those unrealistic expectations they have about what they should look like, right? And I don't like to talk about my insecurities. I don't like to hear other people (read: some of my sisters) obsess about their bodies. But, yet, here it is.

On and off the past few weeks, I have been depressed about my weight. Ugh. So much to lose. My least favorite part of going to the dr when I was pregnant was getting weighed. Kind of silly, because it's the one time you're supposed to be gaining weight, but for me, I knew that it wasn't just baby weight and I was going to have to deal with it sooner or later. The first time I went back to the gym, at about 3 weeks post-birth, I got on the scale and knew the time had come to deal with it.

The big belly, the last couple of months before birth, dwarfs all other weight gain. It just felt like it was all belly. Then, when the belly is gone (or at least, when the baby is born) then the weight on the rest of the body becomes crystal clear. Before the birth, everyone smiles at you and your "cute belly." Afterwards, you're just one of thousands of chubby Americans. I want to wear a sign on me saying, "I just had a baby. That's why I'm chubby like this!"

The weight will come off, I know. By the time I'm done breastfeeding, I might be somewhere close to my more normal weight. And that's the other depressing thing. The breastfeeding boost to breasts are dwarfed by the extra weight other places. By the time the weight it gone, I'll be back to nearly A. Or worse.

Lucky for me, I have a really cute baby. I can divert attention from myself and my insecurities by placing him strategically on my lap, in front of the leftovers from the pregnant belly.