They don't make my thighs look any smaller... They might actually make them look bigger! Never mind - Megan Gale I ain't. Wearer of questionable jeans - I am!
I hope you've celebrated your wobbly bits a little more today too.
Monday, 20 May 2013
Day 1 of the 'Stop Hating Your Body' revolution
So... I might be taking it too far but I've always liked colored jeans. I've never been brave enough to buy a pair. No, I'm more of a "dark and bum-minimizing" kind of gal. Yesterday I posted my very honest blog about my less than perfect body and then quickly ducked into the shops to buy clothes for the Hedgehog. No clothes for my little boy but a pair of Kermit the Frog jeans for me. Thank you Cotton On sales rack, $20! (Yes I know there's a reason they were on sale).
Sunday, 19 May 2013
Start a revolution... stop hating your body!
My my, how things change...
Guess what? I've reached my pre-hedgehog weight. Amazing right? (insert big sigh and feelings of self loathing here).
A funny thing happened while I was pregnant. I looked back on pre-pregnancy photos of myself and realised that I was actually a lot skinnier than I had ever let myself believe. I promised myself that after I had my baby and returned to my pre-pregnancy self, I would be kinder to my reflection. I would wear my skinny jeans with pride, ignore the bumps and lumps that are often invisible to other people and stop myself from buying 'Bridget Jones' underwear and get shopping on Victoria's Secret instead.
With all this in mind, I've been actively chasing the demons of my pregnancy off my body. All those toasted cheese sandwiches, chocolate milkshakes and banana bread - slowly (mindnumbingly slowly) falling off my body with each push of the pram and lift of the Hedgehog. It took just 40 weeks to gain the 20 kilos that I added to my body during pregnancy and has taken 36 weeks to lose them. Weird considering tabloids are constantly screaming headlines of A-List celebs being back to their pre-baby figures the second they deliver their gobsmakingly beautiful children. Thank you Who Weekly for my unrealistic views of just how this weight loss challenge would unfold.
With all this hard work and the promise of being kinder to myself, you would think that I would be celebrating that magical number flashing up at me from my scales this morning. Sadly, it seems that while weight can be lost, insecurities and allergies to all things reflection related cannot.
I've lost weight before. When I was 25, I weighed close to 90 kilos. One New Years day I woke up and decided that I didn't want to be a size 16 and would try and be a size 14 by Easter. I started walking every day and ate according to the CSIRO diet. By Easter time I was a size 12. Not content with that number, I pushed and pushed myself until I reached my goal weight, 62 kilos. Again, you would think that I would celebrate that achievement. Wrong. I decided that 58 was a better kilo to weigh and pushed and pushed until FINALLY, I reached that goal too. 58 was my wedding day weight and you would think that on my wedding day, dressed in a hellishly expensive size 8 gown, I would finally be pleased with myself. Wrong! I promised that as soon as I returned from my honeymoon, I would aim for 55.
I've never gone below 58. I know in my heart that lots of people would cry with happiness at seeing that number blink at them from their scales. I know that I am healthy and fit and can buy clothes from almost any store my credit card allows. I rationally tell myself that strangers aren't assessing the width of my hips and wobble of my arms as I walk by. Yet all of these rational thoughts can't silence that little voice in my head that says, "you shouldn't have eaten that" or "don't you think you'd be better off with a slice of celery".
Before you roll your eyes for the seventh time since visiting this blog, this post is not an online confessional dedicated to my appearance. I'm simply voicing what I know 99% of the female population are feeling. Jennifer Hawkins is the 1% exception. I read recently that she is happy in the skin she is in. What a relief! If 'our Jen' couldn't love herself sick, who can?!
I've known hundreds of beautiful women in my life. I've spent hours marvelling at their sense of style, charisma and general aura. I've envied their wit and humour. I've witnessed them turn heads as they cross the street or simply walk into a room. Do I know the number on their clothing tag? Have I ever asked them how much they weigh? Have I ever wondered what they would look like if they lost a little weight? No, so why do we constantly think this of ourselves?
I'm not sure that I will ever celebrate my body with wild abandon. Do any of us? And if we don't, why?
You've probably heard this before but, imagine if we let a friend talk to us they way we inwardly speak to ourselves. We'd ditch them in a heart beat right? Goodness and Gracious is all about finding the good. I've quoted Ellen de Generes and her request for us to be kind to one another. How about we look inwards and be a little kind to ourselves? How about we revisit our Childhood and celebrate our chubby cheeks, dimpley thighs and a wobbly tooshes? Perhaps we could accept a little wiggle and embrace our curves? No diets - no shakes - no despairing at the sight of a kilo creeping onto our hips. Simply an acceptance of who we are and acknowledging that we're all alright.
I'll go first... I may not look incredible in a bikini right now, but am totally amazing in my new winter wardrobe. Scarves are my friend and layers make me happy.
What do you think? Are you in? What will you do to celebrate your flawed yet beautiful appearance?
Saturday, 11 May 2013
A letter to my 39 week pregnant self...
Dear 39 week pregnant you
This time next week, you will be a mother. You will be holding 3.3kgs of absolute perfection and 51cm of innocence. You will have just experienced what you now know to be a nightmare birth, yet you only rated it a 6/10 on the nightmare-delivery-stories scale. You will be sick for days and holding your newborn child will be almost impossible at times. But, you will do it. You have to do it. The smallest and most incredible person has just become your life's work, and besides, you've got a bit of time on your hands, why not use it to raise a child?
I know you're nervous about what's to come and I'm writing this letter to tell you this, you'll be amazing. How do I know this? Because I'm you - almost 11 months on from today. I know, weird concept right? I figure if people really believe that Kim Kardashian is comfortable in those leather outfits at 8 months pregnant, you can bend your mind to get through this letter.
Your newborn baby will soon become known as the Hedgehog. Your younger sister will name him this after she sees his shock of spikey and almost black hair. The name will stick long after he goes through that 'Bert Newton phase' and all of his hair falls out. It will grow back blonde and thick and he will look more like his Dad than you, lucky his Dad is so easy on the eye.
As you leave hospital and make that first trip home, you will see the world in a new light. Noises will sound louder, cars will seem faster, nights will seem longer and you will feel lonelier. I wish you wouldn't. Despite all of your fears, nobody is judging you. The friends that visit and gush over your baby aren't looking at your baby weight. Nobody is thinking that you might drop him, forget to change him, wonder when you will ever cook a meal again. The Governor doesn't expect you to keep a spotless home and look like a Stepford wife when he comes home in the afternoon. Despite all of your fears, everyone in your world is looking beyond your pony tailed hair (will you ever have time to use your GHD again) and unvacuumed floor and gazing directly at your beautiful little boy. So how about you stop vacuuming with the Hedgehog in the baby carrier, sit peacefully during the rare moments your child is asleep and be a little kinder to yourself? What's the worst that could happen?
This may come as a shock to you but... your baby won't share your love of sleep. It will be another seven months before the Hedgehog sleeps longer than 41 minutes at a time during the day (and even longer before he sleeps through the night). You will tell everyone you like it this way, that you can get more done in 41 minutes than you ever thought possible. You will shower, dress, do hair and make up at break neck speed and even unstack the dishwasher in 41 minutes. You will have a 20 minute power nap and a cup of tea in 41 minutes. You will spend all 41 minutes of every single nap thinking that today might be the day that he sleeps like other newborns sleep. It won't be. Believe me when I tell you that one day, your baby will sleep for 2 hours and 47 minutes and you will peek into his room to check he's breathing at least seven times during that sleep. After this, he will have long and lovely naps every day and you will finally exhale and admit that you've been running since the first day you arrived home from hospital. And for a few weeks, you will feel exhausted as this marathon of running finally catches up with you.
Exhaustion comes in many forms and the strongest incident of this will occur during the Hedgehog's six week growth spurt. It won't ever be as bad as this one week. You will cry a lot towards the end of this particular week. In fact, you will cry in a cafe in South Perth with a very special friend who has teenage children of her own. Listen to her when she says that being a new mum is hard and that you're doing an amazing job. Heed her words when she tells you that everyone feels like this regardless of how often they tell you that their baby is perfect (and starting piano lessons and learning Spanish soon too). Enjoy this coffee date as an hour later and you sit breastfeeding the Hedgehog on the banks of the Swan River, you will get a parking ticket and the Hedgehog will cry all the way home. But that will be the last of it, that will be the only moment that you genuinely think, "I can't do this".
You absolutely can do it and you absolutely are a lovely Mum.
I can't tell you when you will start to believe in yourself but it will happen. One day you will be brave enough to visit an art gallery and go for lunch afterwards, Hedgehog in tow. You will return to your pre-baby size and those J Brand jeans you bought just before you fell pregnant. You will love being a Mum and your baby will bring you more joy than you can ever imagine.
You have so many firsts ahead of you. You will never forget his first smile - ironically, it will be just seconds before he has his 8-week immunisation shots. His first laugh will melt your heart and make you smile every time you play it back on your iPhone. The first night he returns home to NSW and meets his Aunty CeeCee and sees his Aunty Mill and big cousin Tbot, will be incredible. He will smile the second he lays eyes on these special people and eat his first bowl of solids as you all sit at CeeCee's table and share a pizza.
You will capture so many firsts on your iPhone but don't forget that sometimes, your memory can record these moments too. Try to enjoy the many amazing moments without a camera or phone capturing the event. You won't have a camera when his gobbeldygook finally becomes, "Mumumumumum" or "Dadadadadada", yet you will remember these words as clearly as the moment he first says them.
Speaking of words, you will hear a lot of them. Advice will come at you thick and fast. You mightn't ask for it and often times, you don't actually need it. There will be times when 'Baby Love' just won't cut the mustard and when these times arrive, you know the friends who can help. One friend will be amazing and you will owe her a debt of gratitude when everything falls into place. You can't repay her for her endless texts and emails but you can pay it forward and help other and more new Mums when they need it. The first time you give a friend advice and it actually helps them, you will feel like you've made it. And you'll smile.
One more thing before I close, you know those enormous boobs you're sporting? Well they're about to get even bigger. Despite their size, you won't be able to breastfeed for quite as long as you have planned and that's okay. When the time is right and you bravely offer your baby a bottle of formula, you will cry. You will trade the long and difficult evening breastfeeds for a bottle feed and books. You will read and read and read to your baby and this special bond will live on far longer than you had ever planned to breastfeed. Believe me when I tell you that people in cafes are not looking at you when you offer your baby a bottle in public. Anyway who cares if they are! Over time you will realise that your baby was hungry for a lot longer than you realised and that moving him onto formula will be kinder to him than struggling with a small supply of breast milk.
Enjoy this final week before you drive to the hospital on Saturday morning. You are going to pack lots of things into your hospital bag. Please don't forget to take your self-confidence and strength. You will need both of them. You don't know it yet but you already have what you won't read about in all of those books you've been studying, you're taking a whole suitcase of unconditional love with you and as The Beatles sung, it really is all you need.
It's time to sign off now. It's Saturday night and believe it or not, the Hedgehog has been in bed for 2 hours and you have a date with your husband. It involves a cup of tea and a movie and you can't think of anywhere else you would rather be. Oh and it's your very first Mothers Day tomorrow. You are eagerly anticipating opening your gifts and secretly hope you're getting a pair of pajamas and slippers...
Happy Mothers Day to you and to all of the incredible Mothers that you've met and are yet to meet. You/we, are doing a great job.
Lots of love,
You xx
This time next week, you will be a mother. You will be holding 3.3kgs of absolute perfection and 51cm of innocence. You will have just experienced what you now know to be a nightmare birth, yet you only rated it a 6/10 on the nightmare-delivery-stories scale. You will be sick for days and holding your newborn child will be almost impossible at times. But, you will do it. You have to do it. The smallest and most incredible person has just become your life's work, and besides, you've got a bit of time on your hands, why not use it to raise a child?
I know you're nervous about what's to come and I'm writing this letter to tell you this, you'll be amazing. How do I know this? Because I'm you - almost 11 months on from today. I know, weird concept right? I figure if people really believe that Kim Kardashian is comfortable in those leather outfits at 8 months pregnant, you can bend your mind to get through this letter.
Your newborn baby will soon become known as the Hedgehog. Your younger sister will name him this after she sees his shock of spikey and almost black hair. The name will stick long after he goes through that 'Bert Newton phase' and all of his hair falls out. It will grow back blonde and thick and he will look more like his Dad than you, lucky his Dad is so easy on the eye.
As you leave hospital and make that first trip home, you will see the world in a new light. Noises will sound louder, cars will seem faster, nights will seem longer and you will feel lonelier. I wish you wouldn't. Despite all of your fears, nobody is judging you. The friends that visit and gush over your baby aren't looking at your baby weight. Nobody is thinking that you might drop him, forget to change him, wonder when you will ever cook a meal again. The Governor doesn't expect you to keep a spotless home and look like a Stepford wife when he comes home in the afternoon. Despite all of your fears, everyone in your world is looking beyond your pony tailed hair (will you ever have time to use your GHD again) and unvacuumed floor and gazing directly at your beautiful little boy. So how about you stop vacuuming with the Hedgehog in the baby carrier, sit peacefully during the rare moments your child is asleep and be a little kinder to yourself? What's the worst that could happen?
This may come as a shock to you but... your baby won't share your love of sleep. It will be another seven months before the Hedgehog sleeps longer than 41 minutes at a time during the day (and even longer before he sleeps through the night). You will tell everyone you like it this way, that you can get more done in 41 minutes than you ever thought possible. You will shower, dress, do hair and make up at break neck speed and even unstack the dishwasher in 41 minutes. You will have a 20 minute power nap and a cup of tea in 41 minutes. You will spend all 41 minutes of every single nap thinking that today might be the day that he sleeps like other newborns sleep. It won't be. Believe me when I tell you that one day, your baby will sleep for 2 hours and 47 minutes and you will peek into his room to check he's breathing at least seven times during that sleep. After this, he will have long and lovely naps every day and you will finally exhale and admit that you've been running since the first day you arrived home from hospital. And for a few weeks, you will feel exhausted as this marathon of running finally catches up with you.
Exhaustion comes in many forms and the strongest incident of this will occur during the Hedgehog's six week growth spurt. It won't ever be as bad as this one week. You will cry a lot towards the end of this particular week. In fact, you will cry in a cafe in South Perth with a very special friend who has teenage children of her own. Listen to her when she says that being a new mum is hard and that you're doing an amazing job. Heed her words when she tells you that everyone feels like this regardless of how often they tell you that their baby is perfect (and starting piano lessons and learning Spanish soon too). Enjoy this coffee date as an hour later and you sit breastfeeding the Hedgehog on the banks of the Swan River, you will get a parking ticket and the Hedgehog will cry all the way home. But that will be the last of it, that will be the only moment that you genuinely think, "I can't do this".
You absolutely can do it and you absolutely are a lovely Mum.
I can't tell you when you will start to believe in yourself but it will happen. One day you will be brave enough to visit an art gallery and go for lunch afterwards, Hedgehog in tow. You will return to your pre-baby size and those J Brand jeans you bought just before you fell pregnant. You will love being a Mum and your baby will bring you more joy than you can ever imagine.
You have so many firsts ahead of you. You will never forget his first smile - ironically, it will be just seconds before he has his 8-week immunisation shots. His first laugh will melt your heart and make you smile every time you play it back on your iPhone. The first night he returns home to NSW and meets his Aunty CeeCee and sees his Aunty Mill and big cousin Tbot, will be incredible. He will smile the second he lays eyes on these special people and eat his first bowl of solids as you all sit at CeeCee's table and share a pizza.
You will capture so many firsts on your iPhone but don't forget that sometimes, your memory can record these moments too. Try to enjoy the many amazing moments without a camera or phone capturing the event. You won't have a camera when his gobbeldygook finally becomes, "Mumumumumum" or "Dadadadadada", yet you will remember these words as clearly as the moment he first says them.
Speaking of words, you will hear a lot of them. Advice will come at you thick and fast. You mightn't ask for it and often times, you don't actually need it. There will be times when 'Baby Love' just won't cut the mustard and when these times arrive, you know the friends who can help. One friend will be amazing and you will owe her a debt of gratitude when everything falls into place. You can't repay her for her endless texts and emails but you can pay it forward and help other and more new Mums when they need it. The first time you give a friend advice and it actually helps them, you will feel like you've made it. And you'll smile.
One more thing before I close, you know those enormous boobs you're sporting? Well they're about to get even bigger. Despite their size, you won't be able to breastfeed for quite as long as you have planned and that's okay. When the time is right and you bravely offer your baby a bottle of formula, you will cry. You will trade the long and difficult evening breastfeeds for a bottle feed and books. You will read and read and read to your baby and this special bond will live on far longer than you had ever planned to breastfeed. Believe me when I tell you that people in cafes are not looking at you when you offer your baby a bottle in public. Anyway who cares if they are! Over time you will realise that your baby was hungry for a lot longer than you realised and that moving him onto formula will be kinder to him than struggling with a small supply of breast milk.
Enjoy this final week before you drive to the hospital on Saturday morning. You are going to pack lots of things into your hospital bag. Please don't forget to take your self-confidence and strength. You will need both of them. You don't know it yet but you already have what you won't read about in all of those books you've been studying, you're taking a whole suitcase of unconditional love with you and as The Beatles sung, it really is all you need.
It's time to sign off now. It's Saturday night and believe it or not, the Hedgehog has been in bed for 2 hours and you have a date with your husband. It involves a cup of tea and a movie and you can't think of anywhere else you would rather be. Oh and it's your very first Mothers Day tomorrow. You are eagerly anticipating opening your gifts and secretly hope you're getting a pair of pajamas and slippers...
Happy Mothers Day to you and to all of the incredible Mothers that you've met and are yet to meet. You/we, are doing a great job.
Lots of love,
You xx
 |
| Me and the Hedgehog xx |
The Happiest of Mothers Days...
We first met in a brightly lit room, we were surrounded by busy people. Some of them were wearing gumboots! Some of them had funny masks on their faces. The theme from Mark Knofflers, Local Hero, was playing. I could feel you even before I saw your face. I held on tightly to your Dad's hand and I held my breath as that final tug bought you out into the warm air of this big world. I held my breath again as they lifted you over the curtain and down to my arms.
You blinked twice, looked at me and looked at your Dad and then nestled onto my chest.
You were supposed to be the one crying. You weren't. You were safe in the arms of your parents as we cried and said hello, over and over again.
You were perfect little Hedgehog. Always have been and no doubt, always will be.
On this very first Mothers Day of mine, thank you.
You blinked twice, looked at me and looked at your Dad and then nestled onto my chest.
You were supposed to be the one crying. You weren't. You were safe in the arms of your parents as we cried and said hello, over and over again.
You were perfect little Hedgehog. Always have been and no doubt, always will be.
On this very first Mothers Day of mine, thank you.
.JPG) |
| Just hours old - perfection personified |
.JPG) |
| Now - almost 11 months on and I still haven't broken him (or sold him on ebay - must be doing something right!) |
Monday, 6 May 2013
Breaking up is hard to do...
Forgive me readers for I have sinned, it's been a week since my last post. I know you will have been missing my witty banter and motivational morsels. It's been a tough seven days. I've been experiencing a very emotional and very sad break up.
We've been together an eternity and it happened so quickly. One minute everything was perfect and dependable. The mere thought of spending time together was bliss. As the hours, minutes and seconds counted down until we met, my shoulders would soften, my pace would slow and my heart would beat with anticipation.
We started out so well. All we needed was a dark room and a soft mattress or the car, or a shady spot under a tree. We spent hours together. Nights would pass by in a blink and mornings would be met with a certain sadness as we said goodbye. Our late teens and early 20's saw the peak of our love. We would spend hours together, missing half of the day, emerging from the sanctuary of my bedroom with ruffled hair.
Over time we hit the same bumps in the road that all couples jostle over. Other vices crept in and did their best to steer us away from our time together; there were the years spent in nightclubs until early hours of the morning, seasons of early morning exercise and sports seeing me creep out of our room and out into the crisp morning air and recently, the arrival of the Hedgehog.
I had been warned, everyone told me that a baby could make or break a relationship. I would always listen intently to advice while smugly thinking, "not us, nothing could break us". Arriving home from hospital with a shiny new baby marked a definitive change, I guess you could say it was the beginning of the end. Nothing would be the same.
We tried to cling to one another, grasping at every second of goodness. Nestling back into the warmth of the bed feeling like nothing could tear us apart. If only it were that simple.
The realisation of the end finally hit me last night. It was 10:38pm. I had been fighting and fighting against accepting what was to come. It only took 1 hour and 43 minutes of battling against defeat for the death knell to make its final call.
I crawled out of bed this morning with the all too common symptoms of a break up - red and puffy eyes, confusion, sadness and a deep melancholy over what I had lost.
What's next for us? Will we ever come back to one another? I don't know. All I can say is this, sleep - I miss you.
On that note, I am off to have my third cup of tea (in addition to one very large skinny latte). Yes, Caffeine is my rebound.
Love always,
Goodness & Gracious
Writers note: the Governor, the Hedgehog and I are currently visiting family and friends in Orange. The little Hedgehog has declared war on sleep and is fighting the good fight - all hours of the day and night. I have no doubt he will lose and sleep will return to our little family. Until then, it's tea and coffee with family and friends! Not a bad consolation prize.
Incidentally, as I write this post, the Hedgehog is sleeping soundly. Ironic much?
We've been together an eternity and it happened so quickly. One minute everything was perfect and dependable. The mere thought of spending time together was bliss. As the hours, minutes and seconds counted down until we met, my shoulders would soften, my pace would slow and my heart would beat with anticipation.
We started out so well. All we needed was a dark room and a soft mattress or the car, or a shady spot under a tree. We spent hours together. Nights would pass by in a blink and mornings would be met with a certain sadness as we said goodbye. Our late teens and early 20's saw the peak of our love. We would spend hours together, missing half of the day, emerging from the sanctuary of my bedroom with ruffled hair.
Over time we hit the same bumps in the road that all couples jostle over. Other vices crept in and did their best to steer us away from our time together; there were the years spent in nightclubs until early hours of the morning, seasons of early morning exercise and sports seeing me creep out of our room and out into the crisp morning air and recently, the arrival of the Hedgehog.
I had been warned, everyone told me that a baby could make or break a relationship. I would always listen intently to advice while smugly thinking, "not us, nothing could break us". Arriving home from hospital with a shiny new baby marked a definitive change, I guess you could say it was the beginning of the end. Nothing would be the same.
We tried to cling to one another, grasping at every second of goodness. Nestling back into the warmth of the bed feeling like nothing could tear us apart. If only it were that simple.
The realisation of the end finally hit me last night. It was 10:38pm. I had been fighting and fighting against accepting what was to come. It only took 1 hour and 43 minutes of battling against defeat for the death knell to make its final call.
I crawled out of bed this morning with the all too common symptoms of a break up - red and puffy eyes, confusion, sadness and a deep melancholy over what I had lost.
What's next for us? Will we ever come back to one another? I don't know. All I can say is this, sleep - I miss you.
On that note, I am off to have my third cup of tea (in addition to one very large skinny latte). Yes, Caffeine is my rebound.
Love always,
Goodness & Gracious
Writers note: the Governor, the Hedgehog and I are currently visiting family and friends in Orange. The little Hedgehog has declared war on sleep and is fighting the good fight - all hours of the day and night. I have no doubt he will lose and sleep will return to our little family. Until then, it's tea and coffee with family and friends! Not a bad consolation prize.
Incidentally, as I write this post, the Hedgehog is sleeping soundly. Ironic much?
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