An Irish woman's social, political and domestic commentary
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| GUBU An Irish woman's social, political and domestic commentary |
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Sunday, March 27, 2005
Happy Easter I was really going to go to Mass this morning. Even tho' the clocks went forward and I lost an hour. I had the usual tea and toast in bed, showered, did some yoga, dressed up the baby since he would accompany me whilst the toddler stayed home. Then I tried to get dressed and things went downhill. My post-pregnancy black trousers wouldn't close. I put a long top over them anyway and a nice coat and was going to persevere but as I approached the door I was consumed by self-pity. How could any decent person leave the house with a zip precariously slipping down because the button won't hold the trousers together? It's been 8 weeks and the rest of me is fine but the tummy is still a disaster area. I know I can't consider dieting because I'm breastfeeding and I need the calories; I know I'll have more time and energy to exercise in the coming months as my hours of sleep lengthen, as will the hours of brightness in the evening. But there is nothing worse than looking down at a portruding belly and a wardrobe full of unwearable clothes and wondering if life is going to be one long tracksuit. I made my tearful way back up stairs and into the bed. My husband as usual had the role of persuading me out of my despair but I needed a good 20 minutes of wallowing in the misery of being fat and grieving for my once hourglass figure. Fortunately, as always, these depressions are shortlived and I rose again, tracksuited and am off for a walk. One day. posted by Sarah | 13:04 0 comments
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