We're starting to get into our groove over here at the aubergine household. Jim's work is fast paced and challenging, but in a good way. I'm groovin on the working-from-home thing, and Natalie is starting to get on a schedule. Except for her pesky desire not to take proper naps. 30 minutes is not enough for a 7.5 month old. I barely have time to get something to eat, use the loo, and do some mundane chore like empty the dishwasher and she's up again. No time to sit down and do any work for which I'm being paid. Which is why I end up on the computer till way past my bedtime.
I just feel so blah most of the time. I've got what I wanted (working from home for a steady paycheck even if it is rather small) (oh, and a baby) (and a husband who is - finally - gainfully employed). Why can't I be happy? There is the whole depression thing, which is a really scary thing when you slap that label on it so I prefer not to think about it that way. I can think of two things right now standing in the way of happiness: Not getting to do anything on my list of fun things I want to do (sewing projects, painting projects, photography stuff, etc.) and dreading looking in the mirror. Someday, somehow, I'll get around the the stuff on my lists. But getting rid of this body and having some sort of transformation into hot mamma? It seems far fetched at best.
I fell in love with the Shape of a Mother website and was all set to post my own tale of woe, but I find myself wanting to ignore my body all together. I'm mad at it for my breastfeeding heartaches, I'm mad it for all the bad hereditary things I have lined up in my future if I'm not careful. I'm mad at myself for always comparing myself to others and making myself feel even worse about my body. I hate not fitting into any clothes, so much so that I am already dreading going shopping to find something, anything, to wear to my husband's company's fancy pants christmas party. I find myself dressing, how one would say, "bohemian" because it's pretty much the one style that is the exact opposite of my Ann Taylor Banana Republic friend's wardrobes. They all seem so perfectly manicured and pedicured (not to mention skinny, ranging in sizes from trim to toothpick) and made up and I can count on one knarly looking unpolished hand how many manicures I've had in my life. And don't get me started on makeup. I don't know the first thing about it, except that I have a crush on black liquid eyeliner and I swear it's how I got boys in college when out dancing with my girls. But now? I pretty much feel like a train wreck. Or maybe I don't feel too bad about how I look and then catch a glimpse in a store window and want to gag. Everything is kind of on hold while I still attempt to breastfeed, and I'm not ready to take that away from Natalie, yet I really want to get cracking on getting my body figured out. And I'm kinda tired of "giving it up to God" because right now? Right now if feels like He wants me to be fat and I'm not ready to accept that.