Baby Weight

First of all, I would like to say that I know I am not fat. I am pregnant. There is a difference. To call myself fat would be insulting to myself and to others who might indeed be a little fat. Not that there is anything wrong with that.

But I think I am fat.

Not really, but kinda. Ever since college, I have been concerned with my weight. Maybe it was because I had roommates with eating/exercise disorders. They would yack all day about squats and carb-free tortillas. They would pull at the skin at their waist and say “Oh my gosh! I need to loose weight! I am so fat!”

What fat? They were shriveled and shrunken. They would NOT be a good source of energy if their airplane crashed in the mountains in the middle of winter and the only food option was cannibalism (though they would be a good low-carb option).

These girls were ridiculous, I know, but slowly, their self-deprecating words took a toll on my psyche. If they were fat, then what was I? I had a normal body, but had never, till then, thought that my body wasn’t acceptable.

No, I did not go to any extremes to loose weight. I am not interesting enough to develop an eating disorder. But I have become extremely conscious of my body.

When I got pregnant for the second time, my main concern was that I’d never be able to get my body back to a fighting weight. Truth is, I still fret about that. The weight loss journey seems like an uphill battle this time. With more baby weight to lose and two children needing my undivided attention, how on earth will I have time to exercise? How do most mommies do it?

I guess it’s not really about the weight. It’s more about the way I feel about myself. I want to feel sexy and pretty again (and I will never again stoop to a dramatic haircut to attain that feeling). I want to look like I belong next to my toned and ridiculously handsome husband. I want to be a “hot mama.” Logically, I know that sexy, pretty and thin are not synonymous. Obviously, logic isn’t always my driving force, though.