I had the worst dream last night. It was one of those dreams where you are walking through your house into your bedroom and you just have this sinking feeling that you are going to find something horrible on the other side. Every step was in slow motion as I walked towards the door, I opened it and on the bed was a shirt of Lee’s. The room smelled vaguely of women’s perfume and the shirt has a lipstick stain on it.
The rest of the dream consisted of vignettes of me trying to figure out what to do, me crying, me packing up the kids and moving back in with my parents, etc. I woke up cranky and depressed. There is nothing like a cheating nightmare to make a brand new mommy feel squishier and less secure than the day before. Why is it that I feel less pretty, and therefore in a sick way (that has nothing to do with logic and reason) less valuable to my husband, when I have an extra 40 pounds of perfectly valid baby wieght on my frame?
It is not as though I gained this weight eating nachos and watching daytime soap operas. I grew an 11 pound 6 ounce baby for the love of Pete! Then I birthed him! I should feel like a rock star, or like MVP at the very least.
On the happy front, I lost 9 pounds in just under three weeks, so his eating habits are helping me creep back toward my pre-baby weight. Of course, then I will be back to attempting to lose the law school weight, but no one is perfect.
I am breathing… cleansing breaths… my dream was not indicative of reality, it was all a subconcious hormone induced nightmare.
I am getting a haircut tomorrow. I will post pictures.