These days I avoid mirrors at all costs. This includes shop windows bus windows, and anything that will reflect my image. I’m not happy with my appearance at all.
I see the fatigue all over me, I miss sleep we were such great friends. But it alludes me at every turn now. But the sleep or lack there of is really not what bothers me. The wee one likes to eat, and I wouldn’t give her up to have sleep back. Don’t get me wrong.
It’s the weight loss that has me really avoiding things. Like mirrors, and having my picture taken, and really enjoying myself. My face looks like someone elses someone I don’t recognize. Clothes that once looked so good, now just don’t seem right. My collar-bone seems to poke out from everything, like a giant scarlet letter yelling out to me from my shirts. I eat, I don’t understand why it just doesn’t stick to my bones anymore. Whirr Whirr goes my metabolism.
My hair, oh my beautiful lovely hair is no more. I haven’t had a cut since a month before she was born. So that would be almost 6 months, and I was religious every 2 to 3 months. It was the only way for it to stay looking good and doing something for me. Now I wake up and throw it in a braid or pony or bun. And I’m still shedding since the hormone drop off at her birth. It’s still tough watching handfuls cascade down the drain. Sometimes I think I’m going to go bald at some point. And no I’m not going to get a mommy cut, if at some point I get to trim some ends off. I can’t do it, this is the longest it has ever been. And it would make me cry more than watching it collect in my brush.
Maybe I should start eating sticks of butter?!