I think that I might have a bad body image. I have never had an eating disorder or gone on a fad diet or taken diet pills. I know my weight is probably about normal for a person of my height. But I can’t help but focus on things like the cellulite on my thighs and butt and the way I really put the PEAR in pear-shaped.
I look almost comically disproportionate, what with my tiny A-cup 34-inch bust, my small (though not pre-baby tiny) waist and my child-birthin’ hips. I look at pictures of myself from four years ago, pictures taken at a time when I know I weighed more than I did at any other time than when I was pregnant (or in the year afterward that it took me to lose the baby weight), and I think, “She sure looks thin.”
The thing is I weighed more then than I do now, by a not insignificant amount, all things considered. It’s just that now, everything is shifted all around. And it makes me sad and miss the girl I used to be.
In college, I was the kind of girl who could drink a lot of beer and eat burritos for breakfast and Pokey Stix from Gumby’s Pizza at 2 a.m. and never gain an ounce (sadness, the one in college town has closed!). I am not that girl anymore. I count calories. I track fat content. I am conscious of everything I put in my mouth, even if it is the occasional potato chip or super-soft peanut butter cookie from our company caterer.
I used to work out as regularly as I slept – every day would find me at the gym or hiking in the woods or on my bike or in a belly-dancing or kick-boxing class. The last time I was in the gym was two weeks before morning sickness set in. I did a yoga video throughout my pregnancy (even when I felt crappy) and once I was cleared for exercise, much of Angel Face’s nap time was filled with ten-minute exercise videos on demand during maternity leave. But once I went back to work, it was all over.
Now, I get up at 5:30 a.m. on your average day in order to allow time for self-preparation and child-preparation before I leave at 7 a.m. for work. I get home from work/day care at about 5:30 every day, cook dinner in hopes of having it on the table by the time Hubby gets home at 6:15. After dinner, I have a precious half hour to 45 minutes to spend with Angel Face before it’s time to give her a bath and put her to bed. Then it’s time for various household chores (last night it was ironing and laundry, tonight I will be cleaning bathrooms, I know you’re super jealous).
By the time I get to bed, I know I won’t be getting enough sleep. Add to that formula some recent job-related angst, and the time for working out appears to be in the negative. But I take what opportunities I have – we walk the dogs whenever possible (but not in this ungodly heat), we hiked many miles on our vacation and spend leisure time doing other walk-y activities. And that’s just going to have to be enough for now.