Post Pregnancy Pants Struggle

I don’t really have anything to rant about this week. Pete has been off so it’s been an absolute dream after doing this parenting thing on my own Monday – Friday for the past 4 months!!

This in turn has made Edwin like the happiest baby ever – erm I’ll try not to take it personally that he’s difficult when it’s only me and him. 

Today I thought I’d get some new underwear. I thought it was time to ditch the 2x 5 pack of HUGE black pants which go up to my boobs which my mum got me after my cesarean. Also the nursing bras which didn’t serve their purpose because I couldn’t deal with the pain of breastfeeding which I’ll forever regret, but that’s a different story for another post.

ANYWAY. Got all this beaut underwear, some matching and everything all size “L” to be on the safe side, only to get home and try them on and find the big granny pants were fooling me into thinking I was ready for nice kickers cause my overhang is fucking repulsive. 

So now I’m sat watching a documentary on Fred and Rose west, drinking beer and eating giant packets of crisps because I literally couldn’t give a shit. I read somewhere is takes women’s bodies up to 3 years to recover from pregnancy and labour anyway so I have that long to get rid of it! No rush :). 

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Body Struggle 

I can deal with the lack of sleep, the guilt of not being a perfect mum and the constant worry that I’m doing it all wrong. What I’m finding most difficult, and yes it’s incredibly vain, but what I can’t come to terms with is how different my body looks.

Before giving birth I was convinced I would be able to bounce back to my pre pregnancy body. I know, I know, SO MANY LOLS RIGHT!? I keep telling myself I’m beautiful still because I’ve made a baby, but it’s hard when you have bin liners full of clothes that you wouldn’t be able to get away with now never mind squeeze into.

I feel robbed. It’s so hard to lose weight when the only enjoyment I have on my own is eating when I’m alone at night. Not enough credit is given to the party diet, just drinking every night and being too sick to even give food a thought. 
It’s so damn unfair that I feel anything but sexy. I hate being naked. I follow every body positivity instagram there is and yet I look at myself in the mirror and want to rip the fat and flab off myself. I mean what the hell is that pocket that insists on making clothes harder to fit!? 

I just want to wear lingerie and jump on my boyfriend without fear of him clawing his eyes out or suffocating him. 

It’s so stupid because I can literally look at every woman and find their unique beauty and appreciate it. Why can’t I do that to myself? I suppose I’m not the only one, so why can’t we give ourselves a bloody break!? We created life! And people can say; “you look beautiful”, “you look amazing”, but I could do with hearing: “Aimee why the fuck are you still in size 14 clothing you fat whore!”. But then I would cry and call that person a cunt behind their back and slag them off to everyone so those people could tell me I’m beautiful.

Anyway, I’ve eaten like 4 packets of crisps tonight, pasta and a mini mars bar with a glass and a half of wine to drown my sorrows. 

I’ll start the diet again tomorrow. (Starving myself and drinking black coffee until I feel so sick I desperately raid the cupboards). 
Stupid vicious circle.