It is time to review how far I got on my journey to being ME again. Since the last count, I have given or thrown away:
– 4 maternity trousers/jeans (OK, they are still in a bag on my desk but I swear they will not make their way back to my closet…)
– 2 nursing tops mainly because they had impossible to remove breast milk stains. Hate breast milk stains. I spent a fortune on nursing pads but it was utterly useless. I was one of these women who had breasts like freaking geysers. If I was sneezing, I was leaking. If I was laughing, I was leaking. If I was coughing, I was leaking. The worse? When L was crying, which was all the time, I was leaking!!! That’s when I decided that motherhood turned me into an animal. I mean, seriously? I might have as well started to crawl on my knees and lick my cubs. Also, non moms could not understand my plight. Thor, GBFFb (Gay Best Friend Forever b), once saw my half an inch white breast pump valves and said:’Oh your nursing pads are so cute, they are like breast tassels. Naughty girl!’ I was like ‘What??? I am leaking liters of milk, changing pads every hour and you really think I would look like bloody Dita vonTeese???‘.
Anyway, I still owe some maternity clothing. Shame on me. Plus while I had a breakthrough few weeks ago wearing my pre pregnancy jeans, I had a relapse since. The waistband got so tight I could not sit anymore. I thus decided to do something I said I would not do: buy some ‘intermediary’ jeans i.e. jeans between the world of ‘whale like pregnant me’ and the world of ‘ME again’. I chose skinny jeans from GAP, comfy and cheap. Except that of course the only thing that is skinny in those jeans are the ankles because I had to buy two size bigger than my normal fit…
L is at the day care which means it is the day when I must get a shower before 11am and wear something else than sweatpants. It is not an option; it is key to the survival of ME as a self-loving woman. Once out of the shower I got on the weight scale and the verdict was: 120.8lbs (54.79kgs). Yeah!!! Only 15lbs (6.80kgs) to drop by the end of January 2013 so I do not lose a bet with my younger sister. We agreed to drop the same amount of weight. The little B***H is already there waiting to reap the trophy: a pair of Manolo Blanik or Louboutins. DH threatened me on the first day of the bet:’We are not getting your sister some designer shoes so you better get on the treadmill, love. I don’t care how you do it: chop your toes, donate a kidney…you are not losing because we are not paying.’ Yesterday evening as he was looking at me pigging out on fatty chicken skin (I know, gross…) and a big glass of Cabernet Sauvignon DH suddenly said: ‘What shoe size is your sister? One of my colleagues is selling her Louboutin Leopard print pumps.’
Me: ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence!’
DH: ‘Let’s start being realistic here.’
Today was a good step. I thus dared to try on one of my GANT pre-pregnancy jeans:
ankles, no problem
legs, no problem
hips and bottom, a little squeezing there
tummy, I literally stopped breathing to button up but I did it. I closed my jeans!
with the soft extra belly hanging out of the waistband, the linea negra that refuses to go away and the stretch marks that cover my whole tummy I realized with horror that my middle section looked like a Shar Pei. Great, just bloody great.
I am still in a great mood though because ladies, it is all about one small victory at a time, one small victory at a time.