Undies in my pocket?

This morning around 6:00, I hurried to the loo to relieve myself before feeding Kathryn & I felt something in the pocket of my robe. I discovered a pair of grey granny panties wadded up in there. What the hell?

I wracked my brain, trying to figure out why there would be a pair of panties in my robe.

Oh yeah, yesterday's shower. The baby started screaming afterward and I didn't want to leave themq in the floor, lest my cats discover a new plaything, so I stuffed them in my pocket instead.

Seriously...how did this happen? How did I become a woman with panties wadded up in her robe, who dons spit up as an accessory, and lives in stretchy pants?

Oh my.

I'm trying like hell to ignore the fact that I weigh ten pounds more than I did back in December, when I could still sip margaritas over a super spicy Mexican dish, and wear my favorite jeans without a muffin top.

Pre-pregnancy.

To say I'm totally cool with this new body would be a blatant lie and I make a point not to lie to myself. So, I'm TRYING to be cool. I admit there is a part of me that kind of likes my new body, but a bigger part of me wants the pounds to say bon voyage and make a one-way trip to...I don't care where.

I've heard there are women out there who don't lose weight while breastfeeding, but I DID lose weight with my boys. Then again, I was a kid, really. Hell, my body was like a rubber band. It totally went back to pre-prego size immediately. Had it not been for the episiotomies, I could have worn my jeans home from the hospital.

I'm not a kid. I'm a woman, with a woman's metabolism...high, sure, but not 19 or 20.

All that said, I certainly haven't stopped eating junk. Last night I had some of the Halloween candy I won playing poker with K and the boys.

Right now, I'm noshing on a little veggie tray K bought for last night's football game. As I crunch on carrots, I'm thinking about the fun size Milky Way I have in my poker loot bag in the kitchen.

I'm resisting. Debating on throwing out the entire bag just so I don't have the temptation.

Yesterday the doctor totally cleared me. My bottom is good except for a tiny, tiny hole she said will heal just fine. So, this means I can work out.

I want to set up the Bowflex downstairs. I think it'll be fun to work out on that.

You know, it's not even the pounds that matter. It's that I've lost my muscle tone.

I shouldn't complain. I know. I'm 5'8" and weigh 136. That's not terrible. The thing is, I've never weighed this much NOT pregnant in my life. It bothers me. It doesn't always bother me, but today it is. I know a lot of women would love to be my current size...but really, it is all relative, isn't it?

Then again, I'm a recovered anorexic and bulemic and still hated my body at 108 pounds, so losing weight may not help at all. Thankfully my mind is healthy now. I have no desire to be THAT anymore. I just want to look in the mirror and not cringe.

I know this post is rather negative, but overall I'm not feeling that way. I'm actually feeling pretty good. I'm a contradiction of terms. I always have been. I'm the quintessential Pisces: the fish swimming againsteach other.

I will say, I'm looking forward to Sunday. K and I are going out for lunch without baby in tow. His mom is going to watch her. I think it'll be good for me.