A Not So Turkish Life

Dinner tonight

…is burger night. with fries. and, knowing my hubby as I do, an extra onion ring side. And I’m going to enjoy every single bite. Simply because I can.

If any pregnant friends were to ask my advice for the initial weeks post partum, the only advice I’d feel qualified to give would be this: Don’t do it… Don’t open that cupboard. You know, that one. The one in which you hid all the pre-pregnancy jeans and teeny-weeny tops. Keep it closed, at least for those first few weeks…No matter how “skinny” you feel now you can see your toes again (awesome, huh!), you’re not. Not really. There’s bound to be, (unless you’re one of those supernatural beings who gain not an ounce more than baby + placenta and leave the labour room lighter than before…how do you do that??), there’s bound to be a little extra round your hips, at the top of your legs and for certain, those tops aren’t going to fit. Give yourself a break, and keep the cupboard door shut.

After a ridiculously futile, tear-enducing attempt to squeeze my postbaby curves into a prebaby wardrobe 8 days postpartum, I locked that cupboard shut, put the scales away out of sight and just enjoyed being a Mum. I focused on baby and me and our needs, which in turn led to healthier eating and exercising for fun. I didn’t give myself the same pre-baby guilt to lose just “xxx grams this week”, and embraced what I had. I bought new jeans slightly too tight knowing they’d soon fit right, and tops slightly too loose knowing that pre-feed, they’d be almost too tight. I’ve given myself a break and feel, and look, great for it. I’m never going to be that six 6 skinny, but I can be size “me” healthy.

And tonight, I’m going to swap those pre-Bubba jeans I can now wear again for trousers with some give and eat that burger my PMT brain is asking for. I’m going to eat it not thinking about the “unhealthiness” of it all, not counting the calories and without giving myself extra grief for going take-out and not making my own, because not only do those jeans fasten shut without the neaed for a wench, but even though they’re tighter than they were and probably don’t look as good as they once may have done, I can smile as I put them on. I can look in the mirror and see a woman with curves, not one who wished she could lose just a few pounds more.

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This entry was published on 06/15/2011 at 18:25. It’s filed under Food to Feed a Soul, Pregnancy and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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