I Had a Baby and I'm Still Fat

I Had a Baby and I'm Still Fat

I gave birth for the first time at 40. I have no desire to pretend that my body did not go through a shitload of changes. I have less desire to defend my current body structure to anyone.  I had a baby last year and I’m still fat. Baby fat. Pfft!

I gave birth during a time where most woman my age have teenagers. Where they had 13 years to lose weight. Where they can’t use baby weight as an excuse for their current body structure.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to lose weight at 40 years old? Baby weight on top of it. I work a full time job, run a household, and mother a toddler. 40 years old with absolutely no metabolism left? A 40 year old who is fucking tired. Tired all the damn time. Who quite honestly, loves her child to the moon and back but can’t wait until her child is tucked away sound asleep at night just so she can relax. As in, on the couch, watching Chicago Fire, Grey’s Anatomy, or Scandal. Or reading. Or sleeping. Yes, that. I have little desire to go to the gym, to run, to bike, to do anything. I think about it a lot. Part of me does long for it. After all, I was pretty fit up until 2 years ago. But now? Fuck that.

I watch what I eat. I don’t over load on junk.  I don’t even drink anymore. The weight simply didn’t fall off after my son was born. Maybe it’s because I didn’t breastfeed. But then again, I see people who have and they don’t look too fantastic either. Am I happy with the way I look? No.  Do I care? Yes.  Is it affecting my everyday life? Hell no.

I have a kid.

A child I adore. When I look at him all I see is my heart. A child who loves his mother for getting on the floor and playing trucks. A child who loves being chased in the backyard and pushed on a swing. A child who loves playing peek-a-boo in his pop up circus tent.  A child that doesn’t look at his mom differently because she doesn’t fit into her size 8 jeans anymore.

A child that is way more important than using the precious time we have together in a day to bolt to the gym. Don’t worry, one day I will get back to it. Back to my old self but for now he needs me more than the gym does.

I’m tired of reading article after article about post pregnancy bodies that miraculously returned to normal or better after having a child. Please. Take a look around. This is body by baby. Muffin top and jiggly arms. It happens.

I have a man that tells me I look beautiful all the time. Who acknowledges that I didn’t just ” let myself go”. I had a baby. His child. And I’m a good mother. A great mother.

And so are you.


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