Iâ€™ve been moving slow this week. Bryan was gone all weekend at a geek thing so Ruthie and I spent a lot of time in our pajamas. And today I donâ€™t have a car to go anywhere, so once again we are still in our pajamas.
It seems Iâ€™m becoming That Wife who lets herself go, wearing raggedy sweat pants, bed head, no make-up, and a spit-up stained shirt. Iâ€™m waiting for someone to turn me in to What Not to Wear â€“ although I think I could live with the humiliation in exchange for a $5K NY shopping spree.
Iâ€™ve become listless and unmotivated again, and donâ€™t even look forward to play dates with friends anymore. I just want to sit in my pajamas, alone, in front of the t.v. and eat chocolate chip cookies and drink lots of wine. Iâ€™m wondering if the Zoloft is wearing off, or maybe Iâ€™m just using depression as an excuse to be lazy.
How does one figure these things out?
Iâ€™m chubby, and itâ€™s finally getting to me. You can only use the I Just Had A Baby excuse, or the I Have To Keep Up the Calories for Nursing excuse for so long before people raise their eyebrows at your third bowl of cereal for dinner.
I think what finally got to me was looking through the Eddie Bauer holiday catalogue that came to me in the mail. I love Eddie Bauer clothes, but I realized as I looked through it that I still picture myself as looking the way I did before Ruthie was born. I have been in denial of my reality. I have become the person I secretly mock and judge when I see her at the mall â€“ the chubby girl who still dresses as if sheâ€™s skinny.
But thatâ€™s not the only thing that horrifies me. What is most horrifying to me right now is that I just donâ€™t give a damn. I donâ€™t care what I eat, what I wear, or who sees me doing it.
I just donâ€™t care.