Today I don’t know if I’m angry or sad.
I feel like in order to get better I need to “take care of myself”. But the problem is I don’t know how.
The clothes I used to enjoy dressing myself in no longer fit, or look the same on me. The desire to buy new things has gone out the window since the stuff I used to like, my taste in clothes-just doesn’t suit me anymore. So I don’t have one now. I never even had to try things on before. I just looked at it and knew. Now, I have to try it on at least three times,look at every angle to see if it looks good- or if it at least fits. Everything is now either just really loose, or too tight. I will look like I’m wearing curtains or a tomato wrapped in rubber bands. Just put anything on then. Whatever anyone gives me. Alright, I guess I’ll have to stick with maternity clothes.
Maybe if I put on nice shoes, I’d feel better! Yeah, that’s a start!!! Oh wait…All my shoes no longer fit me. My feet grew after pregnancy and I literally cannot fit into any of my shoes. There goes the shoes I barely wore right before I got pregnant…Should I get new ones? I can’t. Because I can’t even walk in heels anymore. I was able to dance and run in 5 inch heels and now I will do a complete face plank if I try anything with a heel.
What’s next. Make up. I LOVE makeup! Finally, I can use these countouring skills to work! Yaaas. Makeup on fleeeeeek.
Oh..A stranger just asked if I was expecting my second…
A person I havent spoken to in awhile commented I gained weight…
..This person I haven’t seen in awhile didn’t even recognize me in public. I called out to her and she didn’t know who I was u til she saw my baby.
I guess no amount of makeup can hide these chins…My arms..My legs..I’ll try hiding behind my sense of humour.
It’s eating at me slowly though.
I never had to put so much effort before and now no matter how much time I put into preparing myself I still look like a piece of lard covered in some grandma style type of clothing.
What’s the point? I need to make sure my baby gets everything he needs first. By the time he is sleeping I’m tired. I can’t feel good even if I shower. So what’s the point.
I feel trapped inside of me. I look at the mirror and someone else is staring back at me. “Who the fuck are you and when can you fuck off”, I constantly ask myself. I’m not taking pictures of this stranger. Where am I.
I feel sad. I need chocolate. And bacon. And a hamburger. I didn’t buy any of that. I guess I can make something.
I feel disgusting. I feel guilty. What the fuck am I doing. How am I gonna get better. I gotta “take care of myself”. But how.