Deflated

Since I’ve accomplished my mission of weaning the baby, something terrible has happened. I have been deflated. The part of me that was necessary for feeding the baby has disappeared. I wouldn’t care so much if it didn’t make the part of me necessary for carrying a fetus seem, well, so large all of a sudden. When I was a bit more *ahem* endowed, my stomach didn’t seem so out of proportion. I wasn’t thoroughly thrilled with the extra inches, but they were okay. After all, I have a beautiful toddler to show for them. However, that was in comparison to the larger version of me. I’m not quite so pleased with the new ratio of breast to stomach I have going on. In fact, I think I look a lot like this:

That isn’t so bad, until you realize that the person on the cover of this magazine is pregnant. I am not, nor do I plan to be pregnant again in the very near future. So it is a bit depressing that I could stand next to someone who is, and have people trying to guess who is further along. Once again I’m in limbo.. “Is she pregnant, or is she just carrying a few extra pounds?” I look just like I did about 20 months ago. Only this time, it won’t be cute if someone asks me when I’m due. I’m also not nearly as excited about my post-baby bump as I was about my pre-baby bump. I am carrying a few extra pounds.

I also realize that I am one of the last people that should complain about my weight, the way I look, etc. There are probably tons of people out there would like to look like I do, especially when you consider the amount of work I put into maintaining my girlish figure. The amount of work, I believe would be zero. Maybe it’s negative. I don’t know. When I looked up the definition for negative work my eyes glassed over and my brain shut off. Literally. I just had to jump start it with a peanut butter cup. It was a miniature, so the calories don’t count. Back to the topic. Why am I self conscious about my weight? I don’t know. Let’s think about the whole debacle with Britney Spears at the whatever awards. People said she looked fat. When I watched the replays (over and over and over and over and over and over again), I kept thinking to myself: 1) that girl can dance better than I can all hopped up on drugs and 2) she is NOT fat! (leave her alone! Ha ha ha).

There is something wrong with me. No, there is something wrong with our society. It used to be that a girl with just a bit of meat was considered healthy, and desirable. Because, after all, who wants to date a sack of skin and bones? A girl who is healthy is more likely to be fertile, etc. (same argument as why breasts are “sexy.”) So, what I want to know is when did we lose that ideal? It hasn’t been that long. Marilyn Monroe was certainly no size 0! The models we see these days are bags of bones with some hair, glittery clothes and $3000 shoes. When did that become sexy?

So, I’m deflated and feeling a bit self conscious. If you meet me on the street and happen to ask me when I’m due, please expect a swift kick to the behind and a punch to the nose,. I might even let my baby pull your hair, rip off your glasses and pinch you until you bruise. He’s good at those things. Does all of this mean I’m going to go on a real diet? No. Am I going to start working out? (You mean carrying around an extra 25 squirming pounds most of the day isn’t exercise?) Probably not. I’d better just get used to my inflated belly and my deflated chest.