I get out of the shower and check the situation out in the mirror. Things have definitely changed around here. While I can see my feet again (maybe it was better when I couldn’t because my toes still need a holiday at the spa), my body does not resemble the body I remember it to be. Call me crazy but I could have sworn I had six pack abs. Ok maybe not six pack abs but I could at least see the top two of the six pack trying to peer through the top of my stomach. And what is up with my gut? It shakes. It shakes and it looks soft. I mean it IS soft. Although I can squeeze myself into my old jeans, they don’t quite look the same. In fact, my skin/fat puddles on the top. What happened to my clothes? My cute clothes? My low waisted jeans and millions of wife beater tank tops? They don’t look the same. There is a roll that subtly effects the look of my tight tank top against my jeans. When does that plan on disappearing? I use to laugh at the spoof Saturday Night Live did on mom jeans. Tina Fey made fun of the high waisted jeans that aren’t so flattering. Now I sadly understand that skit all too well as I look in the mirror and see this skin my children gave me as a parting gift after pregnancy (I prefer to call it skin over fat). Those mom jeans go so high up your stomach they hide what may or may not be “hanging around”. A form of Spanx before they were invented! Genius!

What’s up with the dark line on my stomach 11 months later? Why did they name it Linea Nigre? It should be named “baby tattoo” or “I had a kid so don’t judge me”. I birthed two children, please don’t give me a dark arrow pointing downward. Or is that arrow suppose to describe the way my boobs are starting to go south? Another remnant of pregnancy. My boobs were always small but at least that had some sass to them. I mean at least they held there own. Now they’ve shrunk down to the beginnings of puberty and they have lost there spunk. It’s like they’ve fallen and they can’t get up.

Oh wait….haaaa-chooo…excuse me. I just sneezed…which is another remnant of pregnancy if you know what I’m saying. It’s something I thought only my mother experienced as she birthed 6 children, but no. I sneeze and, well, I can’t talk about it. But it’s not funny.

I’d also like to know what’s up with my hair? Someone must have given me a hair transplant in my sleep because this is NOT the hair I grew up with. Three months after I had L it just fell out. That’s not a typo. It fell out in clumps. Droves. My husband was worried and throwing up as he had to roto rooter our bathroom drain and pull out half of my head of hair. Then, when it finally began to grow back in, it looked like a chia pet and it came back in BLACK, not blonde, not dirty blonde, not even brown. BLACK. I used to get highlights every 3 months. Now I need a live-in beautician to highlight my black hair daily. At least with the second baby I knew it was coming. Just like clockwork, three months after she was born, it’s like you took shavers to my Pomeranian and my hair fell out. So now I have three sets of hair and they have names. First I have my Christy hair, or original hair, pre-kids that goes all the way to my bra line (scraggly and nappy). Second, I have my L hair…the hair that is now 2 years old and about four inches long. It looks ridiculous and it makes it to about my shoulders. And lastly, I have baby C’s hair that is about 1-2 inches long and sticks straight up all over my head. And it’s BLACK too. And frizzy. And a completely different texture. Annnnd it can’t belong to me!
All these things are reminders of the two little angels floating around my house who loved me so much they left remnants of themselves attached to me. Why thank you so much! I appreciate the parting gifts but please take them with you! My body kinda had a system down and those two little 9 month software installs have corrupted my hard drive. I do, however, enjoy eating sweets so please make sure my metabolism is up and running at record speeds so my diet won’t suffer…K-thanks!

That is why we labor and strive, because we have put our hope in the living God, who is the Savior of all people, and especially of those who believe. (1 Timothy 4:10 NIV)

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4 thoughts on “Remnants

  1. I can very much relate. I feel eighty! I can fit into original size but the skin is hanging all wrong! And my bones are aching! Sigh.

  2. Oh how familiar this sounds. My lovely mother pointed out my pooch the other day. Womp, wa. Please don’t touch me there. I asked for Victoria Secret gift cards for Christmas so I could get some bras that got the job done. Let me tell you what a discouragement that was. I literally tried on 12 bras and I was too small for all but 2 styles. And as for hair, I like to think that my hair has a personality disorder. Like yours I have my old hair, then the direction of the curls change and there’s Liam hair, then Felicity’s hair is really dense. So many times I’ve wanted to chop it off because it was either falling out or doing it’s own thing. Our lives are a dark comedy.

  3. Loved this post and instantly had to go to youtube to watch “mom jeans” My post baby body is the same! I can fit in all my per-pregnancy clothes, but things just don’t look the same. Everyone tells me how great I look, but I just keep remembering how I used to look!

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