Whistler Baby

Is it just me or does every mum lose their hair after pregnancy? And I don’t mean the occasional strand or two laying around the sink after you brush it. I’m talking about fistfuls of hair stuck between your fingers after conditioning it in the shower. So much hair that it ends up looking like a drowned chinchilla spiraling down the whirlpool of the drain.

And what’s up with the fact that while I’m progressively losing hair on the top of my head, there’s new hair growing, well, growing in the wrong damn places. Like my chin. Yes, all of a sudden I’ve noticed a random solitary hair Fu-Man-Chu style sticking out of my chin. Not the middle of my chin, but sort of to the right, or to the left if I’m looking in the mirror. It’s not the normal peach fuzz either. I’m talking about a single half-inch long hair that I never had before. Believe me, I’d notice something like that.

But hair issues can be easily remedied: wax, pluck, colour, cut, shave, what-have-you.

There’s other surprising body dilemmas that have popped up since giving birth. Starting from the head down, what the heck happened to my arms?

My happy little biceps used to be my pride and joy. I was someone you brought your jar to to open, someone to carry the extra bag or two of groceries. Strong and able, with nice definition. I received many a compliment on my arms. Are you a climber? Do you work out? No, not really, I just have good arms. And nice teeth, but let’s stay on track.

Now my arms have that lower swing to them, not necessarily enough to fly with but definitely enough to glide from tree to tree.

And I don’t even want to get started on my stomach. I know, I know, I just gave birth to twins you say. No! I did not just give birth to twins. Six whole months ago I gave birth to twins, and now I want my tummy back. I do my crunches. The reverse crunch, the vertical leg crunch, the long arm crunch, the crunch with heel push, the bicycle, the plank, and so on. So why do I still have a belly that’s so… mushy? I mean this thing ain’t just soft, it’s like a waterbed. I can push in one side of my stomach, and the wave rebounds off the other side and comes back again.

Moving down the body, I had read about feet growing in size after pregnancy, something about a pregnancy hormone called relaxin that loosens the ligaments, but is it because I had twins that my feet are now ginormous?

I was telling my husband a little while ago that I wanted to start running and needed a pair of good runners. He said he had a pair that he never used and maybe they’d fit. I scoffed. Ha! Your shoes are not going to fit my feet babe, I said. That’s totally ridiculous. He urged me to try them, and just to prove him wrong, I did. Guess who was grinning the “I-told-you-so” smile? Yep, his running shoes fit my clown-sized feet.

To make matters even worse, only recently my dad offered me a pair of moccasin slippers he owned but never wore. Again I laughed. I won’t be able to fit your shoes dad, I hesitantly rebutted. Oh dear. They fit me perfectly. Even a little too snug!

Now my husband, being the loving gentleman that he is, assures me I’m beautiful. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m beautiful, I gave birth to two angels, my body is a temple that created life. Yes, I know all that. I completely appreciate and am in absolute gratitude about all that stuff.

But honey, I ask him, are you sure you’re okay with the fact that you’re now married to a balding, bearded roly-poly Bozo the Clown?