Whenever I bring up “baby weight” with anyone in conversation, whether with friends or family, I usually get the same sympathetic, “well, you look great,” response. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the sentiment, although, as a general rule of thumb, I don’t find it very appropriate to comment on a woman’s appearance, postpartum or otherwise. But after-baby body issues haven’t been a major problem for me. When I look back at pictures of me fresh out of the hospital, swollen and puffy, I feel one hundred percent. I am by no means some hot, tight piece of ass at this point. But I’m proud of what my body has done and where I stand now.
But, there’s still this one tiny issue. I don’t fit into any of my old clothes.
I noticed when I was doing laundry. Actually, I’ve noticed every morning since I came home from the hospital. But it became very apparent when I noticed that I was only washing the same seven things from my closet every single week: comfy bike shorts, tee shirts, a black midi dress, wide legged comfy pants, a T-shirt dress, and a Lulu Lemon tennis skirt.
As you can imagine, this presented a slight issue. Two dresses and some old athleisure don’t exactly make up a great capsule wardrobe.
I had tried to sub in a few new items here and there, but I would see pictures of myself in the new clothes and instantly hated them. I thought maybe I would like them better when I lost a little more of the weight. But here we are, six months postpartum, holding on tight to those last ten pounds, and its finally starting to hit me: even if all the weight was gone, that wouldn’t magically make me like these clothes. Because I bought them for my old self. Not my old body, but the person I used to be.
I’m not saying that I’m running to my nearest J. Jill for some turtlenecks and mom jeans. Actually, mom jeans are kind of making a comeback. But my life has changed, and my style followed suit.
So, I got rid of almost everything. I have way too much guilt to put it all in a landfill, although a great deal of it was not even suitable for the goodwill. I’d worn holes in my old faithful wide leg comfy pants. Once it was all gone, the pressure was on to make really educated decisions about what I let back into my home. After my surgery, I ordered a pain killer-induced combination of snakeskin shoes and Dalmatian print pants. Those were promptly returned when I got back into my right state of mind.
Instead, I stuck to the brands that I knew fit my new body and followed what I felt best in since I had Annie B. Solids, knits, midi lengths, and neutrals. Now, there isn’t a single thing in my closet that I couldn’t wear out the door today, and that is a HUGE relief. No pressure to get back into my clothes, no struggle to get dressed in the morning. Getting ready is something that I actually look forward to again.
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