Sidebar: Did you know that I read her most recent book, chronicling her diagnosis and treatment of uterine cancer, during the time I was being diagnosed? Crazy.
Anyways. Back to my stomach. I can't stop thinking about it. Obsessing over it. Every time I use the bathroom I stand up after and catch a glimpse in the mirror and the spiral starts all over again. It would help if strangers would stop asking me when I'm due. Literally. That is still happening to me. Even when I'm walking around with Jack. Who, to be fair, is a very small infant. So, it's crazy to me that people can be so oblivious. We are talking all kinds. Even a waiter at IHOP. I actually think my mother in law, Sandy, wanted to murder the guy. I have seriously never seen a look of death as good as the one she hurled at this guy. It was a combo of death state meets murderous rampage mixed with a dash of $1 tip and a splash of maternal protectiveness. And also, maybe, some pity. Cause what the fuck, man. But lets tip our hats to Sandy. I seriously would have curled up into a ball, given up and left myself for dead a month ago if it were not for the support and love I get from people like her, but especially her. She's amazing. Talk about a real mom. We won't go there on my mom. At least not today.
On top of that, we have the volunteer at the cancer center, who was so sweet and felt so agonizingly bad I feel guilty even blogging about her. She actually rubbed my stomach as she asked. Horrifying. A few other randoms. I get the knowing stare. I'm so glad my fake pregnant belly makes strangers so happy. Oh, and the lady I buy my cupcakes from.
But wait, wait, wait. Back it up!! Is it the cupcakes? Is that why I still look 5 months pregnant? HELL NAW, PEOPLE! I'm not allowed to exercise, save light, recreational walking (no treadmill which is driving me bonkers in this heat.) HOWEVER, I am not sitting around, eating 5,000 calories a day, creating this huge tummy. It's my ovaries and the remaining tissue in my uterus. You see, I have/had what my doctor refers to as a "very vascular," tumor. That means lots of blood and guts and crap. That means its large and takes up a lot of space. So my uterus is having a hard time shrinking back to its original size. Couple that with the fact that my ovaries are huge and covered in cysts from all the extra hormones, and I look like I'm just in the cute stages of bumpin' it. Which is, for the record, not cute 14 weeks postpartum.
I said for me, it never used to be that often that I thought about my stomach but that was kind of a lie. Ok, big fat lie. Like most women, I am obsessed with my stomach! I used to be a skinny bitch, and even then I think I probably thought I was fat. Ever since I graduated from college and my metabolism took a perma vacay, since it was coupled with laziness and happiness... I've had a little more cushioning. For awhile it was ok. But then it grew into a problem. A nagging self hatred at the center of my being. I started to understand how Eve could write a whole book. I dedicated hours sitting at work, filled with self loathing; thinking about my stomach.
So, this has been hard. Because my stomach was ok. And I would give anything right now, just to have my flabbiness (my fixable, jog-away-able stomach,) come back.