January 22, 2010 at 01:26 5 comments

I am fat. I have always been fat. . . Well maybe not always. There were a few years when I was a small child where I was positively scrawny. But for all of my adult life I have been fat.

That isn’t to say that I haven’t experienced times in my life where I felt healthy and attractive, though I am certainly not going to win any self esteem awards I have spent a lot of my adult life feeling just fine about my curves.

Now is not one of those times in my life. At this moment, I feel like a disgusting blob. A feeling only encouraged by the regrowth of a problem that I had undergone surgery to get rid of.

That’s right; my breasts, due to breast feeding. Have nearly doubled in size. Leaving me only two cup sized away from my pre surgery, back killing, disgusting, sagging, stretch marked knockers. And even if they aren’t quite as bad as that, it’s still hard to feel sexy with two gigantic misshapen milk pustules on your chest.

Of coarse the 20 pounds that remain from pregnancy aren’t all in my breasts. Much of it has also settled in my thighs, my lower back and love handles, and of coarse, the sad looking empty lump of loose skin and fat that is my stomach. . . Oh and my arms, which sprouted some bright red stretch marks to match my stomach during pregnancy.

This, as vein and self centred as it may sound, is the only complaint I have about motherhood.

Never mind that my partner is sleeping on an air mattress in the living room so that the baby can nurse to sleep. And never mind the buckets of drool that have started coating everything we own with its cold slimy film in the last two weeks. And never mind that I haven’t had more than the time it takes me to take a shower completely to myself in 4 months.

I am only concerned with putting my body back together. How it used to be at the very least, although better than before would be nice.

It’s not even really entirely an image issue either. In the last two weeks of my pregnancy, pre eclampsia set in, my blood pressure sky rocketed to 150/95, my left hip started to go on strike, and it was frighteningly difficult for me to breath beyond what is normal for a woman in her 36th week of pregnancy.

These health concerns, it was pointed out by my doctor, were not necessarily directly contributed to by my weight, but my obesity certainly didn’t help. And this scared me and das piper a lot more than we copped to at the time.

All that being said. Today I took a walk in this unseasonably warm weather to my friendly neighbourhood curves gym and after a long talk with one of their trainers, I purchased myself a membership for 2 months.

I am hoping that this, combined with our weekly fit for 2 aqua fit classes will be enough to help me start feeling a little less like a disgusting blob. And a little more like the healthy and attractive woman I know I can be.


Entry filed under: health, resolutions.

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5 Comments Add your own

  • 1. i am the diva  |  January 22, 2010 at 07:58

    good luck…!

    i know how tricky it is to be rid of the post-baby belly bulge… Chewie is 18 months and i’m still working on mine (She said while eating ice cream)

  • 2. Anonymous  |  January 24, 2010 at 09:58

    I take huge offense, as I’m sure the entire breastfeeding community will, to the term ‘milk pustules’. It is a fairly immature view of your lovely, life-sustaining, immunity giving breasts. If you hate them and breastfeeding so much, why don’t you stop and just use formula???

  • 3. Pocket.Buddha  |  January 24, 2010 at 10:48


    I did not say that I hated breast feeding. In fact. I love breast feeding. I have talked about how much I love breast feeding and how important it is to me at great length on this very site.

    In fact, having once been told that I may not physically be able to do it, I probably appreciate the experience in a much deeper way than many others.

    The point I was trying to make is that the changes in my body due to the beautiful life giving powers of nourishment that I have are not really all that conducive to feeling supper sexy all of the time.

    While I am sorry that I have offended you, I am sure that there are many people ‘mature’ enough in the ‘breastfeeding community’ who would totally understand the struggle to balance mothering with sexuality.

    In fact, it is incredibly immature to expect someone to feel 100% blind joy and one dimensional positivity towards such an awesomely rich and spiritual experience.

  • 4. Anonymous  |  January 25, 2010 at 00:11

    Keep at it, you can get the weight off! You have a good plan in place.

    Never mind Anon… you appreciate your ability to breastfeed, that doesn’t mean you “have to” appreciate what this stage in your life does to your body.

  • 5. Suzanne  |  January 25, 2010 at 03:14

    Anon –

    Please do not try to speak for “the entire breastfeeding community”. There is a lot of diversity among moms that choose to breastfeed and you don’t speak for us all. Certainly if you are personally offended, you are free to express that. But please don’t put words in my mouth. Thanks.


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The pocket Buddha is a talisman, whether the pocket is in our mind or our jeans, the pocket Buddha is there to add a touch of Zen to our lives. He smiles from his dark penny and used tissue filled abode and reminds us simultaneously to go with the flow of our lives and to keep our goals, hopes and dreams ahead of us. At least one moment everyday, the satisfaction of a project completed, the taste of a meal we managed to make without burning, the extraordinary patience we somehow managed to show in the most frustrating of times, the pocket Buddha throws us a pocket-lint sized piece of nirvana, and for that I am very grateful.

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