My facebook feed is full of friends and friends of friends from university who are part of what seems to be a health and fitness pyramid scheme. I am happy for them. They are pumped about smoothies, squeezing in workout between nursing their babe and prepping veggies for the week’s meals. They encourage and support each other, they share ideas, somehow they make money doing this. They are killing it.
I do, however, wish they would stop posting pictures of their jeans- #noexcuses #hotmom #fitnotflab. Three, sometimes four pairs, each smaller than the last. They scare me. I have a set of jeans like that. Four pairs now. Each smaller than the last and I hate it.
I have an autoimmune disease. I know now that my thryoid is running on high and that my body ate itself for at least 3 months, my giant meals and constant snacking were not enough to satiate my metabolism. The thryoid hormones flooding my system have also made me incredibly anxious, nervous, shaky. I had a hand tremor. I was exhausted and couldn’t sleep. I would have to put my daughter down, afraid my jelly knees would finally give out and I would drop her.
These pictures, the nesting jeans, are presented as images of health. But they can also illustrate illness. If I hadn’t been so excited to fit back into my “skinny jeans”, maybe I would of gone to the doctor sooner. If I hadn’t thought- all moms are tired, and made excuses- I need to eat more. I just need to be better at this. Instead of dropping 25lbs below my pre-pregnancy weight, and nearly passing out while shovelling the driveway, maybe I’d be another 2 months into my recovery.
I don’t have skinny jeans anymore. I have sick jeans. And I’d love nothing more to fit back into my size 12 jeans. The ones I bought after I had Maggie and couldn’t fit into anything else. Flush with the success of building a babe and what my hips had accomplished I celebrated and bought my first pair of new jeans in two years. To accommodate my success, my motherhood. I want to be in those jeans again, throwing my babe high above my head and catching her like I cannot right now.
I have a great doctor, a great naturopath, an amazing partner and I will get back to myself. I’m working on it. Until then, I rest. I heal.
When I grow out of them, I’m burning the sick jeans.
Trust yourself mamas. Love yourself as you are, however you are. Maybe try to compliment something other than a friends weight loss. It may not be intentional. It may not feel good. Please ask questions about how you and your body change, do not assume you’re doing something wrong.
Find more from Rian on her blog HERE