The Weird Inbetween

This post is personal. So if you cringe at reading about that kind of stuff, or are an eye roller and immediately think "Personal post=most likely someone whining about stuff I don't care about", then maybe skip this one. Go back to your candy crush game, Pinterest, or whatever else you do to waste time on the internet.

One more thing, this post is LONG. Like, really LONG.

I'm going to get real here. Real about my body and all the thoughts about it. This is hard for me to post because you all know how passionate I am about positive body image. And right now I am struggling.

Let's start from the "beginning". (Beginning in quotations because I'm talking junior high/high school. Not the actual beginning of my life).

Looking back, I cannot recall a time in my adolescence where I remember looking at my body in the mirror and thinking I was fat, or hating my thighs/bum/stomach. In fact, I don't remember giving any of that a second thought. I want to say it was a combination of being active in sports and growing up with a mother who was active because it was what she loved to do. I never heard her call herself fat, or make any negative comments about her own appearance. And I never heard her say anything negative about my body either. Negative body image never crossed my mind. I realized years later how "abmormal" that was.

 I don't remember having "food rules". Yes, we had fruit and vegetables daily. Yes, we knew we were only allowed two cookies for dessert, but I don't remember being told that if I had more than two cookies I would get fat. Or that sugar would kill me one day. I doubt my mom restricted our cookie intake for just those reasons (if she even thought them). Either I totally tuned out my mom saying that stuff while eagerly reaching for the cookies I knew I could have, or else my memory is correct in that we did not grow up in a home where we were told there were good and bad foods.

The first time I ever dabbled in having some negative body image thoughts was during my second year of college. I had a horrible first semester down at LDS Business College living far away from home for the first time and had a couple roommates that were honestly quite terrible. Looking back on my behavior, I realized I turned to food for a stress relief. It only lasted a few months, but when I was home for the holidays I realized that what I was doing was not making me happy. My body and soul just felt off and gross, to be honest. I vowed when I went back for my second semester that I would lose weight.

And I did, but it wasn't in a healthy way. I didn't work out and switch to eating better wholesome foods. I just ate less. A LOT less. I remember sometimes taking only a bag of carrots to eat for lunch at school/work and STARVING but secretly being proud of myself for working on losing that stress weight so quickly. And I did. I lost it after a couple months and then went back to what I think was more normal. A lot of that had to do with me being a lot more happy in my environment. I had my best friend as my roommate and we moved into an awesome/super ghetto house in a beautiful part of Salt Lake. I was done with school and making new friends. Life was good, so thoughts about my body/food were completely off my mind. Working at an eating disorder clinic really opened my eyes on how easily most people turn to food as a coping mechanism, whether it's binging or restricting, or both. It helped me realize that what I had done briefly was just that: coping. It helped me realize that I never wanted to do that again, that there were healthy ways to lose and maintain weight. That food was not the enemy, we are the ones who make it the enemy sometimes. I really felt like I was back in a place mentally where I was fine with my body. I did what I could to work out and eat mostly healthy. Negative body image thoughts were not there.

Until I became pregnant.

Sorry if that's a shock and a disappointment to some (or all) of you, but it's the truth. I've jokingly talked about in previous posts what some people have said to me without realizing how they sound. (aka "You're going to have a BIG baby!" or "Wow, you look a lot farther along than you really are!" Or another one I just heard last week "How much did your baby weigh? Because it looked like you were going to have a 10 pound baby at least!" -bless that old lady's heart.) Once I became pregnant, my body became the focus point of everything. Everything I ate I was thinking "Is this good for my baby? is this going to pack on extra pounds that aren't needed?" And it seemed everything people talked to me about was my body. Most information I read told me I would only need to gain an average of 25-35 extra pounds during pregnancy. Well guess what? I gained WAY more. We're talking at least 50 pounds. I hated getting on that scale at the doctor's office every month as I progressed through my pregnancy. I hated that I was starting to do what I ranted and raved about to tell people NOT to do-let a number affect how I felt about myself. Sure, a part of me knew it was all "normal", but another part of me felt embarrassed and slightly appalled. I tried my best while I was pregnant to work out and eat healthy. I was constantly CONSTANTLY hungry. I ate a lot because if I didn't, I felt sick. I tried to eat well. The number kept going up. I stopped looking. (Mainly because my belly got so big that I couldn't see the number on the scale. It was a blessing in disguise.) I had this internal battle going on inside my head the whole time of trying not to care but finding myself still worrying.

Sure, everyone carries differently. Everyone has their own unique body type. Once again, I was more aware of my body image than I ever had been. And it was frustrating.

February 27th came and out came my child. My brand new, beautiful perfect child. And like pretty much all pregnancies, I lost a majority of the weight gained during those first 6 weeks. When I stepped on that scale at my 6 week post partum appointment, I was impressed to see how much my body had just naturally lost. I was now only roughly 15 pounds over the weight I was before I was pregnant.

And now I am in a totally new phase of my body. Pregnancy really stretched out and expanded parts of me. Loose skin, stretch marks, giant boobs, you get the picture. I'm in the weird "in between" stage because my maternity pants are too loose, but my pre-pregnancy jeans are still too tight. I tried to convince myself to not even try them on for a few more months, but curiosity got the better of me. I ended up going to Savers and buying a few pairs of bigger pants because I have no idea when, or if ever, I'll be able to fit into those again. And yes, it was still somewhat depressing even though I KNOW I have a good excuse of having just had a child. Believe me when I tell you little Lauren is a wonderful blessing in my life and I wouldn't think twice about giving up my body again for a little nugget of joy like her.

I'm struggling with feeling guilty/annoyed at myself for wanting my "pre-baby body" back as badly as I do. I've always loathed those stupid magazines by the check out stands that boast of ways to help you get your pre-pregnancy body back with these "simple tips", to which I'm sure most aren't healthy.

I understand that it's a work in progress. I understand I'm only 2 months post partum. I understand it will take a while. The healthy way will, at least. I've really been trying (and I think succeeding) to eat healthier foods. We eat a lot more whole foods in our diet, and I am making an effort to work out. I'm trying to enjoy moving my body again instead of only doing it to lose weight. I do believe that my body will become balanced again and be where it is supposed to be.

I think my main fear deep down is that where my body is supposed to be from now on will never be back to what it was before. And deep down I'm afraid that I'll resent that. Part of me understands that having a baby changes everything. Mentally, emotionally, and physically. I'm also afraid that now that I've admitted that out loud on this blog, that some of you will judge me. That you will think that I'm ungrateful and narrow minded in thinking this way about my body after giving birth. I guess you can feel that way, and I can't control that. But in a way, it feels nice to blog about this, especially if I hear that others have felt this same way. I'm not posting this to fish for compliments about my body. I'm not posting this to get pats on the back and being told that everything will work out and be just fine and that I just need to be patient. I'm posting because this is how I feel. And the one goal I've always had with blogging is to be real and own up to my feelings and lay it out. I guess I just have a lot to say on this topic right now.

So there you have it. If you've made it this far without falling asleep or going back to Pinterest, I'm giving you a virtual high five.