I've been trying to channel my inner-Maria Von Trapp lately, but am having a hard time doing so. No, I am not adopting seven Austrian children, joining a convent or making CeCe some stylish playclothes out of hideous curtains (although that would be a handy talent.)
I'm talking about Ms. Julie Andrews' wonderful rendition of "I Have Confidence" from The Sound of Music. An uplifting little ditty, and much needed since motherhood can be a major mood-buster.
Even months after your baby is sleeping through the night and you manage the time and energy to shower, fix your face and find coordinating shoes, pre-baby confidence can be lacking. No matter how much baby weight I lose, I still can't come to terms with how some things just don't go back after birth.
Breastfeeding boobs were the bomb. But now when CeCe and I sing "Do your ears hang low," I feel I should be substituting another body part in the chorus.
The scale claims I am shrinking, but that nice line of pudge that sits atop my jeans button refuses to agree.
Even the parts no one can see make a new mom self-conscious. I'm convinced that the stiches I had after labor left mammoth scars on my lady parts. Instead of cute little undies that say "Love" or "Sexy" I need a pair that reads "Hot Mess" or "Wrecked Va-jay-jay."
My usual female insecurities have blossomed lately into an giant, ugly flower. Even if there is a heavier, only quasi-attractive girl around me, she might as well be a super model. Because she has not had a baby and, therefore, has the advantage.
I know that CeCe doesn't care what I weigh, how my body looks or if even my sweatpants give me a muffin top. A baby's love is truly blind to those things, and my confidence as a mom is through the roof. But as a girl- I'm feeling a little doe, ray, me, fah, so-so.