I realized something the other day that truly depresses me. Here is a picture of me taken when I was 10 weeks pregnant:
First: Good gracious, I look at that picture and see an average-sized woman. Yes, I still had weight to lose, but I look pretty healthy, I think.
Second: See that shirt and those pants, both of which were favorites of mine? I can’t wear either item of clothing now. So even though I have not been pregnant in 7 months, I cannot wear clothes that I wore when I actually WAS pregnant. And at 187 pounds (which was what I weighed the first of this month), I am not an average-sized woman. I’m not sure what I weighed in that picture, but I would guess I was probably around 175 at that point since I was 170 when I found out I was pregnant.
In reality, the difference between the me in that picture and the me of present day is roughly 12 pounds, and yet it seems like a lot more. None of my clothes fit like they used to, and fat has taken up residence in places it had previously vacated. Those days of my thighs not rubbing together? Long gone. Even pants and shirts that I know I wore previously at this weight don’t fit me now.
I’m living in a different body, and I don’t like it very much.
I realize this line of thinking is unhealthy and unproductive and yet I can’t shake a feeling of disgust when I look at myself in the mirror. Many days I despair of even getting back to that pre-pregnancy weight, much less reaching my ultimate goal weight.
But then I look at this face:
And suddenly, everything is beautiful.