This morning as I got out of the shower and started moving around my bedroom getting dressed, Lily looked at me and asked, "Mommy? Why do your bobo's [breasts] go down?" I think you would be the cause of that one, kido.
It kinda set the tone for the day.
Looking at those pictures of myself last night I had a really hard time with the image before me. See, I was losing weight at a pretty respectable clip but then Anya started nursing less often and the weight somehow packed itself back on. I hate the way I look and this morning during breakfast I caught sight of myself in ill-fitting clothing and almost burst into tears. Then Mark made some off hand comment and I spat back at him, "when ones wife is hating the way she looks, one would be wise not to make fun of her." And then I burst into tears and he wrapped his arms around me, whispering an apology in my damp hair.
"Why's Mommy crying?"
"She's sad, Lily."
SHIT. I didn't know how he'd answer her and I instantly went into panic mode over my girls and their own body image.
"She doesn't think she's pretty. Do you think Mommy is pretty?"
She nodded yes and I let a laugh escape from my tear stained face. "Thanks, Baby."
And yet, I wasn't all better. I am once again at that point where I cannot stand what I look like. And yes, I know people with weight issues that are waaaay more intense than my own but when you don't recognize the person in the mirror, it's just SUCK.
You'd think all that time with women this weekend would have made me feel BETTER about myself. Ah well. Maybe it's time I start using that gym membership I got in January.
How do you keep yourself from hating the image in the mirror?
And Vickii, you ready to start a class? Apparently I really need it.