Pack of Lies

I've been keeping a list this past year of all things, "mommy". Not so much things I've learned, but situations and opinions I have on so many things that are baby-related. Before I tackle that monstrosity, I'd like to talk about me for just a few minutes. Let's face it, it's after bedtime, I just finished washing 18 sippy cups after tearing the house apart looking for the remote AND the dog's half-full water bowl...one of which was behind the toilet and the other was in the back of the toddler-sized Batmobile's compartment in our living room...so why not focus on me for a change?

Side note: I hope the Batmobile is resistant to hydroplaning because it is currently in standing water.

My body has taken a toll in the last year. Not only did I give birth, but in the same week, I turned thirty. One of my best friends warned me that things were going to be downhill after that and no truer words have been spoken since. It's a wonder that I haven't woken Mike up every single morning because when I move to get out of bed, my bones popping literally sound like an amateur backyard firework show. 

I've actually lost about thirty-five pounds which is all the baby weight I gained. BUT, I really don't believe the fat has left my body. It's just shifted. I got a ton of new underwear for Christmas. It was on the top of my list because I refused to enter 2017 in Blanche Devereux's draws. I may sound like a Golden Girl when I wake up but I don't have to dress like one. Anyway, my underwear is really cute, but because of the new hips that have settled onto the outside of my body, they literally eat them when I sit down. I have to move side to side and awkwardly adjust moments after sitting because if not, I feel the lace in crevices that shouldn't even be allowed to be crevices. All the HIPPA paperwork at the OB's office should legally be changed to "HIPPO", because that's what you're signing your midsection away to look like, ladies. FOR-EV-ER. 

Moving on. Oh, my precious, glorious, breast-feeding boobs! Wherefore art thou? Somebody get Sherlock on the phone because I got a case for him. I'm left with nothing now but...remnants. No one would believe the cleavage I had around 5-week post-partum. I wanted to document them because I wasn't sure if they'd last so I took pictures. Purely scientific, non-sexting related pictures. I needed them to be able to look back and bask in the glory. Clearly, sixteen months later, I've accepted that twenty-five of my lost thirty-five pounds was boob fat. In addition to the Christmas panties, I asked for new bras because I was tired of all the extra padding getting in my way with my old ones. I was fitted and discovered I had gone from a 40-C (with my cups overflow-ething) to a 36 B. As in, A, BEEEEE, C, D. Yeah, THAT one. I asked for the super-padded, super-lifting, super-push-up. Basically a $50 boob job wrapped in a pink shopping bag. I opened the bag on Christmas morning, rushed to change into it, and suddenly realized that all the excitement was a pack of lies. There was no promised cleavage. As a matter of fact, I pulled a shoulder muscle (does that even exist?) trying to squeeze them together to even get them to touch. Get out of my face, Victoria, with your secrets, lies, and false advertisements!

I recently discovered that I'm related to gaming legends, Mario & Luigi. There can be no other explanation for the giant, black mustache that has taken over my face after giving birth. I didn't even accept this until my waxer had just finished with my brows and said, "Lip too, right?" Um, excuse me? Why would you need to do that? **Shows me my face in a mirror that was created for legally blind people** OH. That's why you suggested that. Because my body is rejecting that I'm a woman after the torture I put it through and is slowly turning me into a 50-year-old Italian man. I had my lip waxed. My face broke out into hive-like, red welts, FOR DAYS. So no more waxing. I just buy high-powered primer, concealer, foundation, and powder to keep that delightful accessory to myself. 

Aside from these things, and also that one time when I Googled, "Bosley Hair Replacement for Men" when I thought the hair I lost during pregnancy was never coming back, I'm trying to adjust to my new body. There's a fine line between feeling confident and feeling cocky about yourself and how I feel is currently toward the end of the spectrum fondly recognized as, "Okay-ish". Like so many of the other things I'm slowly adjusting myself to in my new mother role, how I feel about me is something that is taking a while to dig into. Much like my underwear digging into me at any given moment of movement.