About four months after I gave birth to my son, I decided it was time to try on some clothes. In a store. Big mistake. Way too soon. Major tears. And ever since then I've shied away from even my own closet.
But this morning, something possessed me. No clue what it was, unless it was sheer boredom with wearing the same three pairs of pants for the last month. And perhaps a dash of chagrin over all of them being maternity pants.
So I opened a long-neglected drawer and pulled out a long-forgotten pair of jeans. I know. Very bold of me to start there, but like I said: possessed. I pulled them on. I was able to zip them up. I tried another pair. Same deal. I did a little happy dance in front of the mirror. I checked my rear view (acceptable).
It was difficult to believe, but it slowly sank in — I am back in my jeans, even though I'm a good 15 pounds above my pre-pregnancy weight. There's still a need for tops that provide artful draping, but hey, one step at a time.
And I know, I shouldn't care so much about how I look, because my body just performed a miraculous service and that's the most important thing. But I do care, and besides — those comfy maternity britches aren't in the Goodwill pile just yet.
Posted with Blogsy
Mama-Come-Lately 
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