Or is the Fashion and Style section just a throwaway? Just to sell ad space, like the Auto section?
But hey, if she breastfeeds them, at least she’ll be back to her old figure in a SNAP! (Or could be.)
Seriously? This is the breastfeeding support that women need? That breastfeeding burns a lot of calories and if you’re lucky, or a celebrity (with a TRAINER and a CHEF, natch!), you’ll be back in your skinny jeans within weeks. And now with a great rack! HOTT!
But what if you’re not “lucky”? What if you’re one of the women who cannot lose the last five pounds until you wean your child–because your body is holding on to that extra weight just in case your nursling needs it? What if carrying this child has permanently ruined your urinary tract, so that even when your sweet one sleeps through the night you’re up to pee twice? What if birthing this child has torn your perineum and negatively affected your sex life? What if you have a fistula from childbirth and are cast out of your tribe? Still concerned about the baby weight?
My own cautionary tale is that after I had Miss M, all whopping 8 lbs, 11 oz of her, I was a stressed out new mom. I didn’t take care of myself as well as I should have. The weight that I had put on was via a lot of protein shakes and composed salads. My doula had said, “Don’t drink juice,” so I didn’t. The weight came off easily as I nursed and barely had time to put together a cheese sandwich.
And then? The weight kept coming off. By the time she was four months old I weighed 92 pounds. (About 10 under pre-pregnancy.) Ralph Lauren would have hired me if I had a pretty face and seven more inches. I looked gaunt. My clothes didn’t fit. Taxman begged me to see a doctor, repeating, “I’m really worried about you,” about three times a week.
With AM I put on more weight–more juice (I had cravings) and ice cream–and took off less. (He weighed almost a pound less.) I was tired, of course, but I didn’t look like a prisoner of war. When he was two, I started jogging again and lifting weights. I didn’t lose a pound, didn’t stitch my abs back together, but I felt healthy. Isn’t that what should count?
I think I have said this before, but I suppose it’s worth repeating. Having a baby changes everything. Even if you diet away every ounce and torture your abs back into shape, you are not the same person you were. Your priorities and thoughts are constantly rearranged. But here the “paper of record” is feeding the appearance-driven, outwardly-obsessed, material/aesthetic culture that just seems so damn unimportant after you experience the fierceness of real love.
Seriously, editors, just make the section ads. I need to spend my Fridays doing more important things than responding to this crap. Like cleaning my house.