I struggled with weight issues my entire life. The moment I hit puberty, I’ve always been playing along the fine line between normal and overweight. I couldn’t fit into clothes that I really liked and I owned only ONE pair of jeans throughout college because it was the only one that can “accommodate” my muffin top.
When I began working out, I started to shed some pounds and well, I could finally fit into those skinny jeans. Fast forward after giving birth to my beautiful boy, it’s safe to say that I gained them all back. The thing is, I wasn’t bothered until people started to remark on how I looked bigger, wider, and fatter. And these comments began rolling less than a month after my baby was born.
If there was any way for my self-esteem to drop back to zero, this was it.
Have you no idea how prone we are to postpartum depression? How one comment, one incident can easily trigger that?
Didn’t I just give birth?
Have I no right to gain some pounds after my body has gone through several changes?
Why the need to compare the present ME with my pre-pregnant weight when you know that I housed a lovely human being inside me for nine months?
I am no Megan Fox, Olivia Wilde or ScarJo. I am just like every other new mother out there – struggling with my weight, confidence and balancing everything else. And the last thing I want is for people to constantly remind me that I don’t look my best.
I see myself every single day in the mirror; didn’t you think I’d notice?
I know my old clothes won’t fit – if there’s any dead giveaway, THIS IS IT.
Just like with other things, if you don’t have anything nice to say; then keep your thoughts to yourself. It doesn’t bother my husband and it didn’t bother me (until you spoke of it), so why should it bother you? If that was meant to be a joke or snide comment, it isn’t one bit funny. Remember, that one sentence could haunt me each time I want to eat chocolate mousse or if I consider skipping working out because I’m too tired of juggling family and “ME” time.
Give me a break. My body has been stretched to accommodate my baby and if you expect it to return to how it looked before, you’re in for a major surprise.
People like me, who are constantly on the brink of insecurity don’t need your affirmation that I’m not in my best shape. I don’t need you to shove into my face how much my appearance has changed.
Inasmuch as I want to say I don’t care about what you think, deep down I know it’s not true. There are things you don’t feel bad about unless others make mention of it. This is one of them.
I got wider, bigger, and fatter? Okay.
Must you say it out loud? No.
Should you just zip it? Yes.
I don’t know what you call it. But in my dictionary, it’s known as TACT. And in this day and age when people have the tendency to talk faster than they think, God knows how much we need it.