Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Post Post-Partum Blues
Bickram ****ing Yoga. That's all I could say throughout the entire one and a half hour session last night. Bickram ****ing Yoga. That, and a monologue to myself that I actually just wanted to shout to the entire class: 'I've had two children you know...I'm a mother of TWO. Did I mention I couldn't see my toes 5 months ago? These hierogliphics on my tummy are stretch marks I got from giving BIRTH. So you..over there, with the tight tummy, you can stop looking so smug. This figure of mine's not all chocolate brownies you know'. Hmmm - ok not so sure about the last one. In truth I know it probably is the brownies - not just the ones I ate while pregnant, because I couldn't tell then, whether it was chocolate or baby that was making my tummy bigger. So technically it's not the actual pregnancy that has given me this pot belly I can't seem to shift and the crinkled skin it's covered in. If I'm honest, it's the almond butter biscuits I bought last week and the killer hot chocolate they sell at the cafe on Fillmore Street and the cup cakes that our next door neighbour's kid dropped in the other day with a Valentine's card. You really should have tasted them, but of course you couldn't, because I'd eaten them. They were DEElicious, from a shop called Kara's Cupcakes, light vanilla sponge with bittersweet chocolate frosting - honestly the frosting, (or icing really but the word frosting sounds so much more indulgent) it was about an inch thick. Sure, technically, they were Max's valentine from 3 year old Aidan, but Max wouldn't have been able to eat all FOUR. So in the name of his health, I had to help out. I know, I know you are probably thinking, you greedy cake stealing witch...but I got my retribution at 105 degrees in a smelly yoga studio last night. I lost it fairly early on as the instructor issued crippling instructions in rapid machine gun fire and by the time we got to the rabbit pose I was upside down and weeping into my knees - or as close as my head would get to my knees. And so here's my resolution - no more biscuits or cupcakes, none, not even one of Kara's cupcakes, ever, or until the pot belly disappears, and then we'll reassess. Rant over.