I have two real postpartum goals. I want to do everything I can to have a healthy, well-balanced child and I want to get my freaknasty body back.
Breastfeeding is much better lately. I’m not in crippling, stabbing pain anymore though sometimes if he catches my nipple at the wrong angle, it feels like he’s trying to amputate my teat with his steel-lined mouth. But other times it’s less of an obstacle and manageable, even if he’s on my boob all the live long day. I look down and wonder how I got into nursing an extra from Grumpy Old Men.
And my boobs! If I could give any advice to women out there who have not had children and plan to, it’s this: take a naked picture of yourself. Be smart about it, of course. Print it at home, lock it in a fire-proof safe and when you’ve given birth and started breastfeeding and your boobs get all biblical on you with the right one becoming “Jacob have I loved” and the left one CLEARLY “Esau have I hated,” you’ll have proof that they were once perky, symmetrical orbs of youth and not two old tube socks filled with different measurements of short grain rice. The more you know!
I would say that my body was at its highest state of freaknastiness when I was 19 and 20. I worked at a gym, exercised often, spent my earnings on hair foils and white-tipped acrylic nails (hawt!). And what did I do then? I obsessed about weight, how fat I was, how I was far from freaknasty, blah blah blah. If I could go back, I would spend so much time working it on the dance floor, my heart would start beating in sync with Outkast’s “Hey Ya.”
I’ve lost about twenty pounds so far, but that was water weight. Now I need to focus on the fat that’s making me look fat. I would like to go into my garage and resurrect all the skinny jeans I’ve buried in boxes, or as I’ve called these clothing items: THE GHOSTS OF ASSES PAST.
I could just have another baby and thus put this diet on hold but I am done with the knocking up from knocking the boots. I’m going to do this slowly since I JUST had a baby and I think even Jillian Michaels would amend her whole workout primal scream of, “I want you to push until your stomach comes out your mouth!” with, “whenever you’re ready, Mona, sister girl!”