I ran 7 miles on Saturday. (Collective cheer!)
And then I came home and disrobed and stood in front of the mirror. (Collective sigh.) I stared head-on at my figure as the steam billowed from the shower. What a downer.
I pulled and pushed at my body. I bent down and took notice of how things hang. I glared.
It’s not pretty. And neither am I. Or at least, I feel far from it.
I stepped on the scale. (Secondary sigh.) I’m pretty sure the current number represents one too many days of treating myself, or easing myself. It’s also a recommendation to back off of uneaten grilled cheese sandwiches, and potato chips after 4 pm.
I went back to the mirror. From the front things don’t look too bad. But from the side? Catastrophe. (In my eyes.) Honestly, I look 12 weeks pregnant. This is all I could think as I stood there naked.
I was excited at the thought of pregnancy. I wondered if it were actually possible. I played the scenario out in my mind. Do you do this too? Do you add every little detail you can think of, trying to push reality as far away as you can for as long as you can?
I confirmed with a pregnancy test and called the doc for an appointment. When the OB also confirmed I got an explanation that I’m the .01% who actually conceived with an IUD, and it was indeed a viable pregnancy–normal and healthy. Then I waffled over who to call first. My sister or my mother? (Nope, Daniel doesn’t come first in this situation.)
My mind wanted to bring me back to reality. You’re not sick, said mind. You should be sick, that’s how you always know. But I continued with my daydream and explained away the healthy pregnancy with the idea that it must be a girl in my womb, not the previous three little men making me nauseous all day and all night.
A little girl. Oh what this could mean. Little ruffled onesies and cute pink shoes. The feminine vibe carrying on in this house. The possibilities, the possibilities. Another happy baby to add to the mix. Another smile. Another cry. Another bright, bold personality.
I snapped back to reality of course. All too soon. With my reflection staring me down.
Nope. I’m just fat. Fatter than I’d like to be, but more importantly, fatter than my body would like to be. And so I’ll run again tomorrow. And the next day and the next day. And maybe by my birthday I’ll be able to put on some fancy panties like Liz and feel confident again.
Read More in body image, exercise, mind/body, Sarah Writes, three kids
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I have those fantasies too. Especially when I look at my reflection and see what has completely disappeared since breast-feeding. Perhaps if I give birth again and this time *didn’t* breast feed and instead pumped for the rest of my life, I’d get to keep my breasts.
At least you can run your issues off. I’d have to pay to have mine reconstructed, and as a mother of two girls, I don’t know that I could convincingly tell them that they’re perfect the way they are if I pay to change the way I am.
See – I’m ruminating in your comments field. Sorry!
Sarah – you are beautiful and, trust me, not fat! Having posed yesterday – you will have to figure out what I mean on your own – I spent some time looking at body parts I don’t think I should look at. They are not the way they were when I was this weight previously in life. How does that happen? Six babies, five pregnancies and not a stretch mark. Two and a half years of running, 60 pounds gone and NOW I have stretch marks. Someone doesn’t like me. LOL!
Believe it or not, we have to love our bodies as they are. First, for our own state of mind and well-being. Second, for our children – whether male or female – as they look to us for confirmation that they are the way they should be. Just another joy of parenting!
I’ve had that same moment, except in our case it would have meant a failed vasectomy… or questions of paternity ;)
But that belly… no matter what I do, or how much weight I lose, I feel like it’s always there. The tell tale sign of motherhood.
Argh! Fuck you, Sarah! In my morning stupor, I actually thought you WERE pregnant and got all excited! Buzzkill!
I think your belly and my belly could hand out over beers and share a few stories. Sigh. The mirror is not my friend, either. But keep running, Forrest! At least you aren’t a lazybritches like me!
oh i love how you make me laugh. and i love that i’m not the only one who will spend 25 seconds letting my mind wander into a creepily detailed scenario of near impossibility. heh.
But as slither into your jeans, remember what my husband says about the dreaded muffin top: It’s the best part of the muffin, baby.
xo elizabeth
Thats exactly why I avoid the full length mirror. If it looks good from the waist up, I’m good. I also avoid the scale. If my pants start to not fit then I know I need to loose some.
First of all, WOO HOO for 7 miles! That’s a major accomplishment, if you ask me.
I have the same body issues you do…except I think my belly makes me look more like 20 weeks pregnant. I also dream of being pregnant, sometimes just so I answer truthfully if I get that much dreaded question (at least in my non-pregnant state) of “how far along are you?”. And yes, I have been asked. It was the awkward moment of the century. I need to get out there and run too. Remember that there is so much more to us than our bellies!
Your eyes are your toughest critic… in everyone else’s you’re beautiful, warm, loving, fun, energetic, real and wonderful. So stop staring yourself down in the mirror and keep running. Boost your endurance, watch the miles increase each time you run and then you won’t care so much what the number on the scale says. 7 miles. That’s amazing. Really.
And like Kitch, even though you blantantly SAY you’re not pregnant… I was still confused and thought you were! Bummer.
Man that TKW, she’s tough! And I agree, even with the title, I was all excited too!
I never think I’m pregnant because of A) tubal ligation when daughter was born, and B) advanced maternal age. But still, there are those days after eating a lot that I look at myself sideways and I think, “What have we here?”
And since I was HUGE (90 pounds heavier) when I was pregnant and then pregnant on top of that, and now I’m not, I only imagine what it’d be like now to be a normal sized person with one of those bellies women show off now instead shrouding in the circus tents I wore. Oh well.
I’m glad that I’m not the only one who plays out full-blown scenarios in my head in a matter of seconds. (Given my penchant for morbid worrying, mine often involve my response to disaster.) I love the way you wrote this: very in the moment and really authentic.
As so many friends have already said: the fact that your body is able to run seven miles after birthing three children is a testament to its beauty and resilience. I can’t wait to lay eyes on you – and it! – so I can tell you that in person!
7 miles? Seriously? Let’s all pause while we give you some credit.
I’ve had to cut myself off from day-dreaming too far ahead of myself. Ironically, though, I used to do it all the time during my long runs. Annnd, since there haven’t BEEN any long runs lately, hence the decrease in my mental rabbit trails. :-)
Less focus on what the scale says.
More focus on “Holy crap, you ran 7 miles?!” Very impressive!
Yikes, I’ve gotta be totally honest…right now if I had to pick between fat and pregnant, I’d pick fat. Yeah. That says a lot. I always thought I wanted a girl, but really, after 2 I am DONE. There’s enough pink panties around this house with just one girl, thank you very much. And, also? To be more honest? I, too, HATE my profile. I am RELIEVED that I’m not the only one who, after going on a run or working out for a frickin’ hour doing major weights, am not the only one who comes home, feeling damn hot, and then: reality. I look in the mirror, and there IT is: the pooch. The leftovers of 2 pregnancies. No matter how much core, how many crunches, how much running, it remains. And I obsess over it. So…deep sigh…what is there to do??? Run more. Eat less. Keep trying to avoid that angle in the mirror. And commiserate?
I know how you’re feeling. I keep telling myself not to step on the scale because it will only disappoint. My baby girl is almost four months old, and when my son was this age, I was a hell of a lot closer to fitting in my skinny jeans. Now, I fear they will never graze my hips again. But I’m trying not to get too down about it. It’s winter. I’m inactive, in the house. Maybe when the sun starts shining, things will start looking up around here. (Except my breasts. I don’t think they’ll ever look at anything other than my toes from now on.)
Gotta tell you, I see a lot of myself in this post…Except for the actually running. But when I get too upset at the whole image in the mirror, I think of the whole picture…Without that extra flap of skin that hangs so elegantly over my three scars, there would be no children, no source of happiness and laughter, trials and tribulations, no challenges and rewards…If you think of it that way, it is not as hard to look at and your are more in touch with the miracle that your body created…
Just trying to make a margarita out of our lemons, girl! Bottoms up!
Hmm were you in my head the last couple weeks? Except that I actually take the pregnancy tests BEFORE I rationally think things through. Heck, it’s only a dollar, right?
You, my friend, are beautiful. We, as a society, are far too critical of ourselves. It’s okay to have lapses in your diet. I know I have. What’s important is that you recognize that and work to change it.
I know that I have been struggling these past few weeks. Life has been tough, you know? And, I need comfort. So, I have been turning to food. Yet, I still work out. It all works out in the end, right? Maybe? I sure hope so.
These are some of the best comments ever. Seriously, Ladies, I am honored to have a home here on the Internet with all of you.
I know that if I just keep running, just keep running (sung in Dory’s Sing-Song voice from Finding Nemo, of course) that the GOOD MOOD benefits will outweigh the HATE TO LOOK AT MY FATNESS IN THE MIRROR Syndrome. That, and I’ll probably start shedding the excess pounds if I keep at it.
You’ve all made me feel happy and beautiful with your little shiny notes of wisdom and understanding. Me = Grateful. I am, I am, I am.
My first visit to your site and I have to say I’m very excited to read more! I’m sorry the topic had to be such that it is. Most of us who are mothers can agree, it’s not always pretty after we have babies. Our bodies move beyond us don’t they? I’m looking forward to stopping by for more reading. I have two boys and can’t wait to learn more about life with 3 as we face down the decision to have another.
Pregnancy. Um… Still have those dreams, but, uh, that would require… yeah.
And as I’m not a believer in current day immaculate conception, my little mother-belly is a reminder that been there, done that.
And why are we so against women with soft spots and curves in this country?
I suspect you are fine as you are! (But run if you must. Just don’t turn an ankle in the ice and snow.)
Being pregnant made me feel so beautiful. Why can’t we feel that way about our post pregnancy bellies? They are gorgeous, truth-telling body parts that prove our experience, strength and resilience. Argh. I need to go weigh in. And hit the gym. Too many solace cookies from long nights with potty training kids!
First of all. 7 miles? Were you being chased by a raving lunatic?
Second of all, if it weren’t for the title of this post, I’d've been tricked like TKW.
Third of all, as a person who’s actually fat, I promise you look beautiful!
The same scenario runs through my head all the time, only it has more of a nightmare quality and reminding myself of the IUD success rate is my hold on sanity.
I really should try to run off my pregnant faking body, too.
Oh how I can relate. I wish I could find more time in the day to exercise. How in the world did you manage a 7 mile run? What were you up before the sun?
Instead of 12 weeks, I’d say I look about 6 months! I know it’s the carbs… they always bloat me bad.
Cheers for your 7 miles! That is friggin’ awesome.
Nell