She ain't what she use to be.
I ran my first race back after, well, all this. This morning. The weather was chilly and a bit breezy and sunny and fair. I was fat and slow but happy to be running. I put my watch on as I was getting ready, and the stopwatch showed the time from the last race I ran--the Turkey Trot, on this past Thanksgiving. When I was nearly 7 months pregnant.
OK, Universe--I GET IT!!!
Anyway, the race this morning got me thinking about the crazy path my life has taken since first becoming pregnant with E. I found out a few weeks after winning--WINNING--a 5K on a sunny September Sunday. Two and a half years ago. Today, my race time was two and a half minutes slower than that day. And, if things had gone differently that fated weekend in January, Calla would be two and a half months old today.
Bwaaaaaaaahaahahahahaha! That Universe and her games--she is one funny bitch!
Back to my point. A few weeks ago--before a hair appointment--I looked at myself in the mirror and noticed--GASP!--about 7 gray hairs! On MY head! When did that happen? Turns out, over the past few years time has left her mark on me. I guess that's the inevitable post-baby physical manifestation of time: the body's a bit softer, the face a little more weary, the legs a little slower. For now.
And I guess that's merely a product of getting older IN GENERAL--I just wasn't really prepared for it. When E was merely a bun in my oven I started out slow--the post-holiday sales too good to pass up, a cute dress in yellow bought in February, when things are the dreariest (DON'T I KNOW IT!). About 7 months into my pregnancy with E I caved: I started buying all sorts of cute things for spring and summer I thought I'd wear after delivery. I bought everything in my regular size. Heck, I'd been the same size for nearly 10 years, what's the diff?
(Psst: carrying a human inside one's body for 9+ months and then shoving said human out your ladybits changes things. Quite a bit.)
Sad me discovered her ribcage just ain't what it used to be--and many of those cute invisible-side-zip dresses had to go back to the store, or, even worse, the consignment shop. My point is this time around? NOTHING fits. NOTHING. Going out to dinner, ordering clothes, getting dressed in the morning--all ruined for me. A fashion junkie, a shopping addict (I do NOT use the term "addict" lightly)--I find myself yet again out of place, the clothing world making no sense. Where I was once a reliable size __, now it's anyone's guess what number fills in that blank.
This and the running, teamed with some lingering body issues, and, oh yeah, the DB thing, leads me often to a serious case of the "I-SUCKS."
To which C so rightly says, "MB, you JUST had a baby. Give yourself a break!"
Yep, that's true enough. Easy to forget the whole"I-gained-all-this-weight-and-slowed-way-the-hell-down-because-I'm-getting-a-brand-new-baby-at-the-end!" feeling when, as we all know, that didn't exactly pan out.
I guess, as with everything, this will either pass, get easier, neither or both. Maybe some day I will confidently click that familiar size button during a online buying frenzy. Someday that stopwatch will read a familiar time, maybe even a faster one.
But you can be damn sure I'm dyeing my hair from now til kingdom come, no matter what.