If this offends anyone, I apologize in advance but this is how it is so I’m also not sorry. Ha 😛
This post also has alot of negativity, so if anyone suffering from PPD or anything related please be warned that this post may have triggers.
I gotta be honest with you, I don’t really know how to start this post, but this is probably gonna be one of my longest ones.
Because there is so much to talk about the change I have gone through physically, as an individual, and how others have treated me since my “transformation”. What I mean to say is- I don’t really know how to not make this post sound so shallow.
As I brew my upcoming posts together in the supercity of thoughts in my brain, I find that the topic of my “change” always ties in or is somehow related to my weight. It’s probably because it’s my biggest insecurity (as of late- oops did I just say that?).
Anyway, without further ado lets get on with this embarrassing post.
Why don’t we start with the most obvious change first. My physical appearance. From being this skinny minnie to the person I am now- anyone can definitely tell the difference. Let me start by telling you in no means did I walk around thinking I was the hottest
shit that ever walked on this planet. Hahahaha, No. But now I kinda wish I did, so I could have enjoyed it more. Ha. But the difference was I didn’t have any body issues. Sure, I had the occasional “I’m having a bar hair day, I feel fat today”days but I usually just got over it the day after. You see,my body didn’t change that much from high school- I was pretty much the same size my entire life. And if I really wanted too, I could still have fit in my high school clothes. Nowadays, I feel like the only kind of clothes I can fit into is anything that looks like a garbage bag. I would have often found body shaming awareness videos incredibly annoying …because I never got it. I could never relate. And I used to think “Why can’t they just accept who they are”? Wellllll….karma’s a bitch sooo. LOL. Now, I look to those videos for motivation, support and acceptance.
So lets take a step back. When did it all go wrong? When did it begin? Well, when my husband and I found out we were having a baby, we decided that we needed to move out of our tiny apartment and into a house with a good neighborhood. I remember coming home
from work at 4 p.m, sitting down because I was so tired then getting back out as soon as my husband got home because we had to look at a house. The housing market here
in Toronto was crazy back then (it’s even crazier now, so I am REALLY glad we got that done and over with). We looked at over 40 houses and after 7 registered offers we finally got the house we live in now. So, during this entire time I would get hungry (as any pregnant woman would) and so during the car ride I would ask to get some fast food. I would often throw up in the car too, so sometimes I needed to get food twice. By the time we got home, sometimes it would be close to 10 pm already. We were both so tired and had work the next day, so often we would have to order delivery or bring home some take-out. I knew it was bad to eat all this crap. I did, but what was I to do? Just starve? I had no energy by the time I got home-I used it all up puking in the car going there and back. It didn’t help that my realtor also wore really strong cologne so I had a few barf sessions, thanks to that. I started noticing my changes during my weekly bump photos. It began with my hands and my arms, my legs, and my face. I saw myself transform and I couldn’t believe it. My wedding rings no longer fit, my leggings started to rip and I couldn’t fit into my tops anymore. Part of me was okay with the change, because I knew that our son was getting bigger as well…but part of me was already blaming myself. I forgot to mention that during my first trimester, the only thing I could hold down was McDonald’s. Yup. No matter what I ate, the only thing I could manage to keep down was a hamburger with only ketchup and onions, fries and an apple pie. So it was either that or just continue to vomit until I was dehydrated.
I’m not telling you this side story because I’m making excuses. That is simply what happened and I know I am partially responsible. I should have pre-preapred foods. I should have been more active. I should have been a lot of other things, but I wasn’t. And
so whenever I reflect back to why I look like this- this is always what I often think about. In my own way, I did really try to be healthy (mind you I barely ate any greens prior to my pregnancy). I saw a naturopath regularly. I made my lunch for work and ate as healthy as I could…but in the end my body just ballooned. It retained water like no tomorrow. During my third trimester, if you were to poke my ankle- there would be this pit that would form and it would stay like that for a whole minute. I had dimples on my toes and the woman I once recognized as myself was gone.
I went from being in pageants, modelling for posters on motorcycles to wearing flip flops in the dead set of winter because my feet were so fat, I couldn’t fit into anything else. I started to notice more and more cellulite forming in my body. I got these freckles on my face that were starting to look like warts, skin tags all over, and my face was getting rounder with chins. I haven’t even mentioned the fact I decided to get this stupid bob cut right before I gave birth so I literally looked like the Filipino version of Dora the Explorer. Fast forward post birth, three months into motherhood. While all this was still happening, I was in the midst of getting BALD spots- right in the smack middle of my face. I was getting stretch marks everywhere that weren’t there when I was pregnant, and for the first few weeks I had lost control of my bladder. To top it off, because pregnancy wasn’t kind to me- I still have the remnants of skin tags, darker patches of skin (thanks hormones), odors, and this new appalling size of an appetite because of breastfeeding. And because I was in denial that I had postpartum depression for like basically the first year of my child’s life, I literally just put whatever on every time I left the house. And even though I knew I looked like crap, there was no point (in my mind) to try (because no matter what, I’d still be in this “shell” i’m trapped in now, so “who cares”?).
So YEA, I KNEW I wasn’t the same as before. Whenever I talked to anyone about “bouncing” back postpartum, I would never have imagined it was going to be this hard. I KNEW when I got pregnant that I was never going to be the same again, and I KNEW that some changes were bound to happen- BUT not THIS much. You can now probably understand why I don’t appreciate whenever anyone comments on my physical appearance. Other than the fact that its just plain out RUDE but because I get it, don’t worry- I KNOW OKAY!!! I mean, I’m living it 24/7- YES I know “I’ve gained weight” and that I look like a hot mess. I feel it so as much as I appreciate your comments-SHAME. ON. YOU. I can probably keep on going, but I’ll save you that trouble for another time.
Lets move forward to my next point now. How I have changed as an individual. Other than the monstrous thing that my body was becoming, I was also under A LOT of stress. I can remember it like it was yesterday. My son’s first few months were in an out of the
hospital. The depression was getting worse and worse. I was always full of rage and I kept lashing out at everyone. My husband and I kept fighting, I was so irritated all the time that I think I actually might have ruined my relationship with my brother. I was (and sometimes still very) so frustrated in life. Due to my son’s health issues, I am extremely defensive and more confrontational whenever someone comments or “gives me suggestions” about my parenting skills. I am an educator, yet my fuse has become so short. I used to sincerely believe that one should never burn their bridges but since becoming a Mom I have been scorching them with a flame thrower left, right and center.
Lets backtrack a bit since I’m trying to do a comparison.Prior to my pregnancy I was always a hands on lady who liked to create things from scratch. There’s something about creating things out of nothing, or recyclables and bringing it to life that brings joy to me. I scrap booked, I baked cakes, I liked to attend social events (even though I’m quite the introvert), I liked to talk on the phone and I loved to go shopping. Blah, blah blah…you know all that normal shit. After my delivery, all of the above just got chucked out the window. Which is okay, honestly I still do these things here and there but these aren’t my most important priorities now. If I DO manage to find time to do things, I would rather….oh I don’t know, SHOWER, SLEEP, DO NOTHING, EAT, TAKE A FUCKING LIBERATING SHIT???? My number one and most important priority is my family. Everything else can pretty much go suck a dick (if I ever had to choose). My son’s feeding schedule has become my most important thing on that list as it was the root of a lot of his problems when he was first born. The second is his nap time and the third is making sure that my marriage doesn’t fall apart because I have become so hard to deal with now.
I dove into Mommy culture fast. I’m not so sure why, but I really embrace being a Mom. I would rather go shopping for clothes for my son rather than myself. I LOVE spending alone time with my little family. They would (and probably will) always come first before everything (which is fine) but before I knew it I lost myself. To this day, I somehow forget to eat and sometimes would only have one meal a day, I would ignore signs of fatigue and would look like an extra for the walking dead, heck I would fail to even shower for days.
I started joining more and more Mommy groups, and they became my saving grace when I was in the midst of my meltdowns. Nothing can comfort you better than fellow mamas who give you constant encouragement and make you feel like you’re not alone. I’ve learned so much from them, and sometimes I prefer just talking to them because I feel like I can connect with them the most. I’m sure I can go on, but its really hard to describe this new version of me because a lot of people don’t tell me how I’ve changed (even when I ask!)
That brings me to my next point. How I feel others have been towards my metamorphosis. Make no mistake, I know I can be pretty sensitive so I know a few people tend to walk on egg shells when they are around me. But I think even if I didn’t have all these issues,
I would still be offended.
Strangers always ask if I’m expecting. Whether I’m randomly pushing a cart through Walmart, paying at the cash, taking a walk, etc… Take for instance, today. I actually felt quite happy this morning because my husband passed a flattering comment that I looked “beautiful”. I usually don’t believe him, but something was different today. Anyway, I went on and about to buy macaroon ingredients. The cashier at Bulk Barn commented on how cute my son was. She started to play peek-a-boo with him. Then she asked while giggling, “Oh you are so cute. So are you going to have a baby brother or a baby sister?”. She looked at me and I just had my bitch face on and didn’t answer. She had the fucking audacity to then ask, “You are pregnant right”?. I said “No”. Then the asshat ACTUALLY said, “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just the way you are carrying”? THE FUCK?! Carrying what?! POOP?…ARGH. Long story short, I put her in her place. Told her even if I was pregnant, it wouldn’t be her business. After apologizing a few times I went on my merry way.
It happens all the time. Shortly after giving birth, I constantly wondered if people (strangers) wondered how my husband ended up with me. Or if people we knew felt bad for him and my baby because I wasn’t “that” girl anymore. I stayed away from meeting up with friends (not only because it gave me anxiety but) because I didn’t want anyone to pity me. Whenever I did end up meeting friends, they would tell me how good I looked and etc. And I would feel like they were totally lying to my face. Because c’mon, this is how I always felt I looked like.
I also notice that because I don’t “glam” up as much as I used too, people who work in retail stores don’t even bother to say “Hi” to me when I walk through a store. In fact, sometimes they don’t even make eye contact. I’m not just talking about stores that
have people coming in and out of them, sometimes the store can be completely dead and they won’t even recognize that a customer just walked in. On the flip side, I consistently get old ladies and (mostly) women smile at me when I’m with my son.
I’m gonna try to end this with something positive. I saw a video recently where this Mom thought her day with her kids was a complete disaster but when her daughter narrated it to her father, it was the complete opposite. I’m hoping that, that is how I am right now. That I’m actually better than what I believe myself to be. That I’m more “beautiful” than I know.