Worth the weight...

Buoyed by our success at the restaurant, I thought it would be fun to leave JC with my husband and hit the  mall.  Now, my body's no longer what it used to be, and I'm not fitting into any of the 40-some pairs of jeans  that I own, so I thought, "why don't I pop by old navy and pick up some cheap transition wear" as I have no  intention of staying at my current size.  Now I don't know if Old Navy just makes cheap clothes that don't fit  very well, but I have never felt so defeated by a shopping experience.  I went into that changeroom like I  always have done -- with huge armloads full of items and potential outfit permutations spinning through my  head -- but as I tried item after item, I got more and more discouraged.  Nothing was fitting right, and it was particularly the case around my midsection.  A friend of mine referred to her post-preg belly as uncooked pizza  dough and I think that perfectly sums it up.  What happened to me?  During my pregnancy my stomach was  always rock hard, which fooled me into thinking that somehow things would go right back to how they were  after I delivered my little angel.  And, indeed, 25 of the 35 pounds I gained were gone before a week had  passed.  But it's now 12 weeks later and those 10 pounds are still kicking around, despite me starting up  running again  Mother friends of mine assure me that things get better after six months and that if you  breastfeed your body will keep a spare ten pounds around just in case it needs it.  All of this makes sense to  me, and if I were reading someone else's post about this, I'd be thinking, "What's the big deal? Ten pounds is nothing.". But it turns out that it is in fact a big deal.  I'm not crying about this or ruminating, I'm not avoiding socializing because of my body, or feeling less worthy as a person, and I'm definitely not dieting (no way am I  going to mess with my milk supply -- more on that later).  But I AM rather disappointed when I look in the  mirror, and shopping, one of my favourite activities (hence the 40 pairs of jeans) totally sucked today.  From  that huge pile I went into the changeroom with, I ended up with one oversized sweater and a pair of slippers!  I  know I shouldn't be surprised and it's not like i wasn't warned (one of my relatives who is a personal trainer and  has a fantastic body said she never got back into some of her jeans because her hips had separated too much  and never returned).  But I guess some part of me just didn't believe it would happen to me or didn't think that  I'd care if it did.  Well it turns out that I care more than i probably should.  At least one bright side to this is I'm  more motivated to work out (in moderation of course) and if it does turn out that I eventually get back into my  pre preg jeans, what a hard-earned milestone that will be.  If not, Goodwill will be getting a sizable donation  and I'm going to buy myself a pair of designer jeans, in a size larger than I used to take, and I'll try to embrace the new body that I have.  After all, this body allowed me to bring JC into the world, and that's saying a lot!