Tibault & Toad

on wedding rings and baby weight (or lack thereof) things

Sometime before Christmas I finally marched down to Costello’s to retrieve my wedding ring which I mentioned dropping off to get resized way back in this post. It is beautiful; so smooth and perfect, and so much better than the work we had done on it before our wedding. It feels good to at least have a ring back on that finger (I decided to hold off on resizing my engagement ring for now). My rings were a little loose pre-baby anyways (so I felt comfortable sizing down at least a little bit), but post baby they were absolutely sliding off, the side effect of finding myself a good ten or more pounds lighter post baby than I was pre (thanks, most definitely, to my little breastfeeding glutton). And here is the part where I certainly won’t climb up on my soap box, but I would like to gingerly place my toe there for just one quick second. I have been sort of mulling thoughts of baby-related weight things over in my mind and heart for months now, and have had many conversations with Alan about such things and even shed a few tears as well, and after Melissa over at Dear Baby mentioned in passing in this post how she was feeling self-conscious about how much weight she had lost, I’m realizing that I’m certainly not the only one, and therefore it might be worth saying a thing or two on the subject. Namely: that while I’m not naive enough to fail to realize that there are plenty of women who are thinking they’d like to trade places with me, it bears saying that all that glitters is not gold, or the grass is greener. . .or something like that. I miss my butt (and the padding it provided on road trips), half my wardrobe, and being comfortable in photographs and in my own skin. Somewhere along the line fat became off limits for comments and criticism, but skinny somehow missed out on that deal. No matter which side of the spectrum you fall on, it is frustrating to feel self-conscious and powerless to change it. Body image is so intricately woven throughout our lives and who we are, and lies so close to that place in our hearts which seeks to feel beautiful, and the whole delicate balance is further thrown off by a culture which over-emphasizes and obsesses over physical appearance in the weirdest way, and presents the most impractical ideals. And while I still hope that some more weight sticks after future pregnancies, for now I would just like to be proud that my body speaks to the fact that I participated in bringing forth a life and continue to sustain that life by nourishing her in the best way possible (and she’s rather chubby as a result). It’s a physical manifestation of my choice to give of myself to her both physically and in every other way, to always choose her good before my own. The choice for me is simple: I will always sacrifice for her and suffer any thing, and what a small price to pay, to be a little disappointed in my reflection in exchange for her to thrive physically and emotionally. And really, that decision makes me feel pretty beautiful.


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