Figure 8

It looks like it's time to bid farewell to maternity wear and say hello to my old friend, size 8. We had been apart for quite some time - about 10 months - but we meet again. I can now manage to zip and button with minimal suck-inage. Sure, I'm sporting the ever-fashionable muffin top but I just gave birth less than 3 months ago so you can cut me some slack, right? I have about 8-10 more pounds to shed to reach my pre-pregnancy weight, according to my fickle digital scale. I'd actually already be down to said weight if my pregnancy hadn't amounted to this:

Uterus: 3 lbs.

Boobs: 1.5 lbs.

Blood: 3 lbs.

Water: 5 lbs.

Fetus: 7.11 lbs.

Placenta: 2 lbs.

Amniotic Fluid: 2 lbs.

Ben & Jerry's: 24 lbs.

Total weight gain: 48 lbs.

But I'm still in a celebratory mood considering my exercise schedule has been nonexistent but for two routines: carrying Nate and his cumbersome carseat up and down 3 flights of apartment stairs or suspending him above my head in a game of Airplane while simultaneously attempting to dodge spit-up bombs. Dieting is a no-no right now so I've made it this far from breastfeeding alone. Amazing. The hormones can actually work FOR me and not AGAINST me for once.

I admit there is sweet sorrow as I say goodbye to the Bella Bands and Secret Fit Belly. One more thing that distances myself from those pot belly days. Those days where I could feel my little man stirring and kicking inside of me. It was our little secret. Now, the secret is out and I have to share him with the world. While I love the life I now share with this little person and love showing him off like the proud momma I am, I do miss those intimate, romantic moments. It will be hard to pack away the skirt I wore to my baby shower. Or the jeans and striped polo tee I wore to the ultrasound that revealed we were on Team Blue. Or the bathing suit that transformed me into a beached whale. Okay, maybe not the bathing suit so much. But I will miss all of the sweet memories evoked by these articles of clothing.

While my bottom appears to be shrinking, my boobs are quite comfortable in their behemoth state. I've gone up a band size and almost two cup sizes since conception. I started out as a member of the itty-bitty titty committee so I'm pleased with my newfound plumpness. Advertisements for breast augmentation surgery no longer peak my curiosity. However, the milk melons are impossible to squeeze into my old, A-cup friendly tops without looking like I'm at home on the Bunny Ranch. I'm a mom now. I can't have the girls flaunting themselves seductively. Besides, the obvious road maps across the continent of my chest are not exactly attractive. So, sad as it may be, I need to harness them. I've found the tops that fit best are the stretch cotton camisoles with the shelf bra. Those are no-fuss for nursing - which is a requirement at the present time - and can be paired with a sweater or a business suit. It's funny how a baby makes you much more simplistic and decisive. If it fits and matches, it's a go. No more modeling in front of the mirror for an hour.

While we're on the subject of growth, at 11 weeks old, Nate has officially shifted from 0-3 to 3-6 month apparel and has been in size 2 diapers for about a week. His toes now frightfully stick over the edge of his cradle swing. I just can't get over how big he's getting. Sigh. Before I know it, he'll be rolling over and sitting up on his own.

Can someone please hit the pause button?