Yesterday I weighed in at my pre-pregnancy weight.
Same number, yet my body looks SO different to how it did before I fell pregnant with Charlotte. My first feeling was one of dissapointent when I realised that 64 doesn’t look the same as it once did. Softer belly, arms that closer resemble Mrs Doubtfire than Mrs Obama, rounder face and some rather annoying lower back fat.
And then I looked at my slender legs and my still pretty perky breasts. I’m sure the latter will deflate somewhat when I stop breast feeding, but then I’m pretty sure that my additional oestrogen induced middle of the body softness will also adjust.
I’m healthy, active and relatively fit. I’d love to say that I’m as driven as Gwyneth or as blessed as Miranda but I’m not, and to be honest I dont think it matters. Charlotte thinks my body is awesome. It nourises her, it carries her, it comforts her and it plays with her. Tom, bless his cotton socks, still finds me sexy.