Mom Jeans

Seriously, whose body is this and when do I get mine back?! This is the question that keeps running through my mind. Every time I pass a mirror and see my little belly poking through my maternity tanks (yes I'm still wearing them, don't judge!), or my new found muffin top squeezing over the top of my pants, or my suddenly wider/fuller hips, or even the new found boobage. Whose body is this and how/when can I get mine back?

I don't want to misrepresent myself by implying that I am in some way enormous or somehow misshapen. I am sure there are plenty of women out there who would love to be my size. In fact I once was one of them. In my adult years I have run the gamut when it comes to clothing sizes. I've been a size two, a size twelve, and every size in between. So where did I fall prior to getting pregnant? After three years of working off about twenty pounds I was down to a very respectable size six. I was happy with my size, felt I could have stood to be a bit more fit/toned, but otherwise was happy. Then I got a job that required a lot of physical activity and suddenly I found myself in a size four. I was in that size for about eight months prior to getting pregnant. I was small. Not too small, but definitely small.

I understood when I saw those two lines on that little stick that I might never slip those size fours on again and I was ok with that. I don't need to be a size four. I'd rather not be a size twelve again, but I definitely don't need to be a size four. Fast forward eleven months and I've lost twenty of the thirty-two pounds I gained during my pregnancy. Pretty good right? Yeah, I think so too, except it seems to have stalled out there. No more weight loss. I've tried to increase my activity level and eat as healthy as I can, and nothing. In fact I think I gained a pound back. *sigh* This lack of weight loss has left me with quite the quandary. Do I continue to wear maternity clothes (almost three months out) or do I break down and buy some clothes that actually fit? Ultimately, the latter seemed like the least depressing option. So off to the store I went.

***I could create a whole post on what it's like to go clothes shopping with a baby so let's just say that it sucks. Lots of screaming, stress and anxiety. Imagine a red faced two month old, crammed into a tiny dressing room, protesting so loudly that his screams echo off the dressing room walls. All the while you are dealing with the horror that is dressing room mirrors and lighting. Good times.***

The process of finding pants that fit has been a long and arduous one. I have made several trips to the store only to be stymied by baby G, or the lack of selection (I live in a small town), or the sad realization that my body is just not the same. I will admit that I was somewhat sad to be trying on size eights, but really the size is not what makes me the most sad. Ultimately I'm fine with the number, it's the way clothes fit me now. Although I never had a very toned physique this is a whole new level of squishy. My body has turned into some sort of fleshy form of bread dough. There are lumps in places that used to be relatively smooth. My stomach looks like it did in my first trimester and the love handles, ugh don't even get me started. In order to find pants that don't squish said fat out the top like a muffin I am forced to try on size tens, but then the rest of the pants don't fit, they sag in the butt and thighs. Not attractive. So what do I do? Saggy butt or muffin top? *sigh*

After five shopping trips, eight stores, and countless pairs of jeans I finally figured it out. The "mom jeans." The women on What Not To Wear always talk about their comfort. They just want to be comfortable. But I don't think that's really it. It's their bodies. They have changed and they no longer know how to dress their new shape. They gave up. Why not just put on a pair of pants that fit around the waist and are comfortable. Who wants to deal with their fat being squished while they run after their little ones? Not me. Standing in the dressing room, G's screams ringing in my ears, and a pile of rejected clothes that would have once looked good on me, I suddenly understood. I wanted to give up. That's it, I'm throwing in the towel. Where can I find myself a good pair of mom jeans? *sigh*

You'll be glad to know I didn't actually find myself a pair of mom jeans, but I certainly thought about it. Instead I chose the pants with the least offensive muffin top and a few flowy tops that cover the unpleasant lumps and maximize the desirable ones (eh hem). At this point I'm not ready to give up. perhaps someday, after a few more children I will, but this one little baby isn't going to change everything. Once upon a time I loved fashion. I had subscriptions to In Style and Vogue. I knew how to put an outfit together. Somehow over the last year I've lost that ability and with my new found body the task is even more challenging. Yes I spend much of my day in sweats, but I have resolved to try to look good if I leave the house. Yes I may have spit up on me, but by God the clothes are going to look good!