It occurred to me today that I haven't weighed myself since aroundabout Christmas, when I officially got back to my pre-pregnancy weight (the Holy Grail of the newly delivered). That's almost nine months now. So I thought I'd set myself the pseudo-feminist challenge of not weighing myself for a full year. Hurrah the sisterhood and boo to body image issues and all that.
Now, clearly not weighing myself hasn't really been an issue so far: I haven't particularly been aware of myself in weight terms, if that makes sense. It's probably not all good, and really just means that the part of my brain that might have once wondered how much I weigh is now occupied with thoughts of the damage breastfeeding a scratchy, tuggy little being is doing to my ladylumps. Feel free to repress that thought now, by the way.
For now, I'll focus on the little victory, and continue not to know where I'd tilt the scales, for at least another three and a bit months.
"the part of my brain that might have once wondered how much I weigh is now occupied with thoughts of the damage breastfeeding a scratchy, tuggy little being is doing to my ladylumps" - you too, huh? The pinching and tugging is just a stage, right?
ReplyDeleteOf course, the scene from 'Away We Go' (awesome movie, by the way) where the Alison Janey character talks about how her children had "sucked her dry" didn't help.
The pinching and tugging passes, but the shrivelling and drooping? ...I'm not so sure.
ReplyDeleteI think I'll follow your lead - everytime I weigh myself I feel depressed, although I suspect for thoroughly different reasons :)
ReplyDeletep.s. image has been repressed ...