Hey, wanna throw up? Get me naked.

...Not to be confused with the undeniably cool song of the same name by Minus the Bear, and obviously a tad dramatic, but it IS true that I'm really struggling to love my postpartum body. At the risk of sounding vain, I'm super uncomfortable being 'pudgy', and that’s how I feel these days. I know it's only been 3 months since I gave birth, and granted, I was literally just trying not to have a stroke the first month (yay for postpartum preeclampsia), but I really thought that I'd be back to my normal size by now. Now I'm barely able to squeeze into my pre-pregnancy jeans.

I'm not asking for much--just to be able to fit my regular 4-6 size pants with the guarantee that I won't bust open the seams. But I know it takes time. Now that I’m back on the spin bike and taking the dog for walks with the addition of 15 pounds of baby strapped to my chest, I'm optimistic I'll see some progress. It's just taking a bit longer than I'd hoped. It seemed way easier the last time around. But to be fair, that was almost 7 years ago. Back then, breastfeeding helped me shed most of what was left. This time it doesn't seem to make much of a difference.

It'll happen eventually. I just need to prioritize myself. I’m a nurturer, so this isn't always easy or natural for me to do. But if it helps increase my confidence, well-being, and self-concept, I'll do it. In the meantime, I'm going to practice radical self-compassion. For the record, my husband does not throw up when he sees me naked. In fact, quite the opposite. It obviously helps that he still loves my squishy body, even when I struggle to do the same. And I see what a kick-ass job it does nourishing my girl. Those are things to be damn proud of in this new postpartum era, to be sure.