OK, let's be completely honest, I haven't been satisfied with
my body probably ever, though I realize now that no one is harder on themselves
when it comes to their body than a young woman, so at some point – likely
around the time that I wore a size 8 and all my skinny jeans didn't have to come
equipped with some sort of Lycra – I should have been happy with my body. In
hindsight, that at least gives me a measurable goal to get back to in the war on weight loss. A
war in which I win some battles and lose some.
For example, while prepping for my week-long trip to Santorini, Greece, I have
my usual ‘winning/losing’ routine: lose the customary 5-10 pre-vacation pounds.
Then, as is also customary, gain it all back gorging on strong wines and rich
food while gone. (Apparently the Mediterranean diet doesn’t work when wine
becomes a main dish.)
Once I return, after being stateside for a few short weeks, one
very determined swimmer calls one of my unsuspecting eggs home, just as I was tipping
the scale at my highest weight yet. The shock and elation of finding out I was
pregnant is quickly followed by the dread of what the scale and my body will
look like in the coming weeks and months. I pray for morning sickness. It comes,
but only in the form of mild to moderate nausea – like being hungover all the
time. I can’t eat much and when I do all I want is salad, fruit and eggs. I lose
a few pounds, but more importantly maintain what I have so that at 13 weeks I’m
still fitting fashionably into most of my clothes. Then comes week 14. My clothes
are no longer fashionable. My pants button, but with a stuffed sausage-like
quality I’ve been able to avoid all my life. (Throughout the war, I’ve always
managed to maintain a fairly slender core.) I take an early leap into the
maternity section for a few holiday dresses, but only end up looking twice as
far along as I actually am. To me, it’s just a testament to how big I’ve gotten
and how quickly. Accentuating the over-sized tummy that I’m not yet proudly owning. I’ve hit second trimester fashion limbo. Not fitting well into my pre-pregnancy clothes, but not quite ready for maternity wear.
I decide maybe I can keep things steady or even generate a minor weight reversal, so after the holidays I get back into the gym only to get a little ahead of myself
and end up in the doctor’s office. Nothing serious, but I’ve been restricted
(by Rick) from stepping foot onto another treadmill. I sneak in quick 20-minute
core workouts when Rick’s not around, but, inevitably, on the morning of the
start of my 18th week, I find the button of my pants coming up about
an inch and a half short. Whoops! Now, I’m where no woman should be: unable to
fit her clothes, but without any maternity clothes on hand! I somehow make it through the day with leggings and a recently purchased over-sized sweater.
But the much appreciated outcome of reaching the pinnacle of the second trimester limbo is that it’s
time to go shopping! That’s when I make the next majorly important discovery:
maternity clothes are extremely trendy these days. I feel like I’m going to
have to upgrade my post-pregnancy closet in order to maintain the benchmark I’ve
set in maternity clothes. Plus, now I’m able to “own the bump”. Not that I have
a choice. I’m 20 weeks in and it seems my belly is getting rounder by the day. And
I couldn’t be happier.
