bewildered by grace

I can't decide if today was a big step forward or back. I will preface by saying this: I no longer recognize myself in the mirror. Not in any sort of a deep way, but in a way that says, "hey! Who put that there?!" I dislike my appearance immensely. I don't remember ever liking it less. Having a baby does weird things to you that I'm not going to get into, but certainly contributes to the above exclamation upon getting out of the shower and accidentally going past the mirror (an activity I try to avoid).

If I could only blame it on that, that would be one thing, but I can't. I'm a stress eater. Or rather, when I'm stressed, I could honestly care less about what I'm eating. And let's face it, it's been a very stressful year. My worst, in the stress department. If I'm holding a crying baby in my arms and it's between putting her down to cry for ten minutes while I make a healthy salad, or grabbing a bag of Lays that I can plow through while I'm nursing, I'm going for the chips every time. Even if it's breakfast. I've had too many other things to think about. I don't care what I eat, lots of days I don't care what I look like.

Thankfully, those days are happening less and less. Which means that I now get up in the morning and scream, "I haven't been pregnant for almost a YEAR! I'm NOT putting on THOSE maternity pants again!" But then I look around at clothes that I don't fit into and can't find the energy to try and fit into, and on they go again. It's depressing, it really is. I have to pull them up a hundred times a day.

So today I decided that I cannot live in the past, or worse, the future (when I finally lose the extra weight) and I caved and made Peter take me shopping. He was the unfortunate recipient of this task as it was him who said the other day, "honey, I know that dress is comfortable in hot weather, but it does NOT do you any justice at all. None." He said it was okay for around the house. I asked if it was okay to wear to the store. No dice. He wasn't wrong either - it's a terribly unflattering dress. Makes me look like I'm packing seventy-five extra pounds instead of, well, you know. The thing is, the thought of buying anything with a double digit size on it (an absolute first for me) just depressed me. And things have been hard. Why add to all that?

But I have literally no summer clothes. Two or three t-shirts and one tank top. One pair of capris bought at a maternity store. Not one pair of shorts. The ugly sundress, and that's it. I'm a walking episode of What Not to Wear, and I'm wondering why my loved ones haven't nominated me so I could get the five grand. It's a beach day today. ALL my fans are on and I'm sweltering. I'm wearing jeans. Stupid. Enough now.

So I went to Superstore (don't you just love the clothes there?) and got a pair of shorts, two t-shirts, and two tank tops. And you know what? They fit. They fit a girl my size. They look nice. I feel nice in them. Like I want to go for a walk outside, or make a salad. While trying on my umpteenth top, a woman who was, strangely, getting changed in the change room hallway smiled at me and nodded in the direction of Peter and Bella, "it's hard when you've had a baby. Everything's in the wrong place. That looks nice." I would have hugged her had she not been half undressed.

I'm going to lose the extra weight, I swear I am. I feel more motivated now than I did sitting in my maternity jeans and trying to figure out if I looked pregnant enough that people would ask. I'm just sick of looking like an idiot in the process, you know? Who wears jeans in this weather?

Anyway, step forward or back, it was a step that required shopping, and those are always my favorite kind.