Maybe it's that I don't have a lot of pride in myself, (well not about my physical appearance anyways), or maybe it is that I've been overweight my whole life and cannot even begin to comprehend what it feels like to morph into someone you don't recognize.... but I have to say, I'm kind of sick of women whose complete identity is wrapped up in their wrapping.
Sure, my weight has defined me in more ways than I care to divulge, but I'm pretty sure in the first week home with an brand new infant, my thoughts were about the immense responsibility of keeping this child alive, and of surviving the experience myself, and not about getting back to the gym, running marathons and fitting into my skinny jeans.
And I know what you're thinking. It doesn't take a psychic to know you're looking at my old shoes, untidy hair, soft body and thinking that I should really do something with myself. I mean hey, I'm thinking it too. And while I tell myself that it's so freeing not to be shackled by vanity, the thing that is pretty sick is that I'm a wee bit jealous of you body-image crazed moms.
Maybe if I had a little more of that womanly obsession with being thin and attractive, I would be well... a little more thin and attractive. Maybe my hair would be done more often, and my nails not chewed down to the quick. Perhaps it would be weeks between eyebrow waxings instead of months.
And although it might seem easy to console myself with the thought that all of the above is simply vain pride and nothing more... it's pretty hard to eschew vanity when you're the only one who is.
I guess for now I'll settle into my corner, guard up, gloves off, knowing that while you're wondering how any self-respecting woman can let herself go this way, I'll be wondering how you - with your hours at the gym, perfectly maintained hair and skin and nails, and fresh off the fashion-tree duds - has any time for your kids.
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