15 February 2010

Facing the Music: Pants Edition

When I got pregnant, I complained to my best friend that I was gaining too much weight. I didn't want to look pregnant months after giving birth, so if I could keep to the lower end of the 25-35 pounds recommendation, most of it would come off with the baby, right?

I have never been able to not eat when I'm hungry. Even in college, when friends flirted with eating disorders, and skipping meals seemed like an easy way to fit into my semi-formal dress, I couldn't do a starvation diet for more than a half a day, which is basically just having a late lunch.

And I was hungry, really hungry while pregnant. All the time, even while nauseous. In fact, the best remedy for my upset stomach was a huge bowl of mashed potatoes. 25 pounds? I wish.

My best friend was very patient with me, and repeated the adage for our baby-weight obsessed age: nine months on, nine months off.

Nine months? Maybe for you, sister! I have lots of friends who were more or less back to their old size three months post partum. I'd be breastfeeding, and everyone knows that just makes the weight fall off, right?

Except. Those friends who lost the weight easily? All naturally thin to begin with, or people who genuinely could not wait to get back to their daily run or yoga class. Whereas I take more of a, I know it's good for me, I guess I'll go to the gym, hey, this isn't so bad, I should do this more often, but, nah, I'm really tired tonight-type approach to it.

It's been nearly a year, and I'm still 10 pounds above my pre-pregnancy weight. Breastfeeding? I'm happy to do it, and A could not be healthier. But as a weight-loss plan, it sucks. I'm ravenous all the time, except when I've just eaten. Then I'm merely hungry. And not for lean protein.

I'd be lying if I said I'd made my peace with my current size, but it is what it is. But those 10 pounds? All concentrated in the spot where my pants should be closing. I bought larger sizes when I returned to work last summer, and when the weather grew cooler, was able to sausage myself into the fattest of my fat pants, but now I’m stuck.

I'm tired of being uncomfortable and having ill-fitting clothing. My solution? Certainly not to diet. I don't want my milk supply to drop, and anyway, ravenous, remember? So, new pants!

I'll save you the details of my sprint to the shops today, but suffice it to say, Banana Republic, I was willing to pay full price for a pair of pants that fit, and all you have on offer is the skinny variety? Ann Taylor Loft, you're no better. You're supposed to be the fall back for women like me -- not trendy, but reliable when you just need something to fit. If you're trying to compete for fashionistas, with your two-and-a-half-inch-rise jeans, I'm doomed.

I found one pair -- ONE -- that fit, looked good and didn't need to be hemmed. I plan to wear them a lot. But hopefully only for another few months.

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Blogger Francesca said...

Oh I hear you. With Number One Son I did take the weight off because 1) I was much closer to 30 than 40; 2) the only thing that kept either of us sane were these daily three hour walks with him on my front or back; and 3) I couldn't eat dairy, so no cheese.

With Little Two, I kept the last ten (cough fifteen cough) pounds on for six years -- basically until I put ANOTHER fifteen pounds on and things got out of hand -- and so I took desperate measures, ie Weight Watchers.

That thing about nothing tasting as good as thin feels? Not true. Because when I have a horrible day, nothing is so soothing as chocolate.

7:57 PM  

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