Funny things happen to your body after you have a baby.
Even if you get back to the same “size” you were pre-pregnancy, your parts are all in slightly different locations.
Things are a little…. longer…and a little… lower…than they were before.
Not only do you have an actual baby to worry about now, but you also have all these jiggly bits to manage.
For example, it is now part of my nightly routine to spray tan myself with L’oreal Spray Tan in a Can.
Todd still hasn’t caught on to the routine, and seems to always walk into the bathroom right when I’m completely engulfed in a fog of aerosol and carrot oil extract. Annoyed, he goes stumbling, coughing, out of the room.
He likens it to Chemical Warfare Training in Marine Boot Camp when he had to wear his gas mask. Don’t be so dramatic, I say.
Sure the spray tan makes me smell like a bag of oven roasted peanuts, but I feel like a sexy bag of oven roasted peanuts. The other downside, of course, is that my wrists and ankles are perpetually orange. But trust me, I look at LEAST 10 pounds skinnier.
Another new product in my bag of tricks is my Spanx body shaper. A nude-colored sausage casing meant to suck in and smooth down. I actually bought my first piece of shape wear when I was pregnant. The store clerk, who was clearly from Brooklyn and thus brutally honest said, “Trust me, you’re gonna need this.” She also told me not to buy the white pants. So right.
A couple of weeks ago I attended an event (this event shall remain nameless in case any of you happened to have been there.)
I was determined to wear a very form-fitting black dress, but I knew I needed a little…smoothing.
Seeing as how Colt is almost 2-years-old, I figured it was time to retire the maternity Spanx and purchase a new pair.
So I bought a size small at my local Stein Mart and joyfully returned home. I opened the box….and pulled out what looked like a pair of bike shorts… for a Cabbage Patch doll (see photo. I’ve taken it with Todd’s flip-flop for size relativity).
It’s going to take an act of God to get my fat ass in this, I thought.
Several minutes of hoisting, grunting, stretching and finagling, and I was in.
I turned to my floor length mirror to survey the results.
Damn. I looked awesome, I thought.
Only problem was…
I couldn’t breathe.
I mean. not. even. a. little. bit. Short shallow puffs were all I could bear.
But I was so determined to wear my little black dress sans cottage cheese, that I convinced myself to wear the Spanx anyway. They’ll loosen up, I thought.
(But that’s the thing about Spanx – they don’t loosen up. In fact, that’s the whole point.)
So I went to the event and 30 minutes in, I was in Severe Pain. My stomach was caving in on itself and I was feeling lightheaded from not really breathing for the last hour. Could have been the omelet I ate, I thought. Maybe it’s food poisoning.
I’ve always been one to make excuses for fashion. What shoe size am I? Depends on how cute the shoe is.
But this was getting unbearable.
Finally, I’d had enough. I went to the bathroom and wrestled those Spanx offa’ me. I’ll control you, Control Top, I said out loud.
Only problem was… I wasn’t wearing anything underneath the shape wear. Mmmm, quite the conundrum.
See, I am ALWAYS in favor of underwear. I am not one of those girls that likes to be free and breezy. Ever. In fact, the Granny-er the panties, the better.
But desperate times call for desperate measures, and so I stuffed those Spanx into my purse (yes, they fit in my clutch) and walked out of the restroom with my head held high.
Just keep it together, I thought. Literally.
Luckily, Sharon Stone didn’t make an appearance, and I made it through the event unscathed.
I guess the moral of this story is that women go through a lot to look good.
We pluck and Spank and tan just to feel normal, and it only gets more involved after babies. So be nice to us.
If you see a woman at dinner looking pale, give her a break. Buy her a drink.
And tell her she looks fabulous.