Does this look okay?

"Yes...You look like a mom!"  YOU LOOK LIKE A MOM! The words sucker punched me right in the muffin top.  I'm pretty sure she meant it as a complement, but it felt more like a verbal assault.  She seemed pretty proud of her words-like she had just made me president of her club.  A minivan driving club where everyone wears high rise jeans and mispronounces designer names.
I feel like I may need to clarify.  There is NOTHING that I am more proud of than being a mom.  But there is a difference between looking like a mom and looking like a mom.

I was excited about my party outfit. It was Michael Kohrs (or as my mom would say, Michael Knobs.) What's a girl gotta do around here to get a "Hey, you look good!" or a "Have you lost weight?"  I'd even take a "where'd you get your shoes?" but I wasn't expecting it since most people know where to get flip-flops.

She and I frequently share recipes and war stories from the front lines of our diets.  Truth be told she was doing a bit better than I was.  12 pounds in three weeks, and I was jealous.  Maybe I was even feeling sorry for myself.

Since Isla was born, my weight has really yo-yo'd.  Actually, it's sort of just yo'd. Up.  To make myself feel better,  I pretend it's not my fault. See, here's how I look at it:

There are  two main categories of postpartum body types: Those who bounced back, and the not so lucky.

The bounce backs are divided into two groups.  First, you have what I like to call "the nannies." You might have noticed one leaving the hospital with her newborn  in the jeans she was wearing the day she found out she was pregnant.  Sitting at the park with her 4 year old and her three week old, looking impossibly thin, there is no other explanation.  She must be the nanny. She usually has age on her side...making her young enough to be my daughter. If you've done your math, that pretty much makes me a grandma.  I don't know about you, but I haven't heard any grandmas lately boasting about how easy it is to keep it together after 40.

Then we have the athlete. This is the person who is constantly "mapping their ride" on  facebook. She runs, everyday, and for apparently no reason.  She's not even being chased.  I'm not sure where she gets her energy, who is cleaning her house, feeding her children, or if she works. But she looks good, and Kudos to her for not leaving it to chance.

The second category is also made of two groups.  I'd say most mom's fall into this category ( I certainly do.)  First you have the MIM's or the medical issue moms. After childbirth, it is not uncommon to have something making it difficult to lose weight. (Besides the child.) It could be hormones, metabolism, or thyroid...but you most likely won't find her at the doctor...unless it's a pediatrician.  There simply isn't time.  She most likely doesn't even know there is an actual medical problem, so she may think she is part of the last group.

That being said, I'm pretty sure the last group is my group, so I say this with empathy. We are the martyrs.

On one hand, I can tell you my priorities are in order. Rather, my priority.  It's my daughter.  I make sure she has the diet we all need. Veggie heavy, organic, no sweets. If she wants to play, we play.  If she wants to read, my heart swells even greater...and we read.  If she wants to cuddle, the world stops.  I've got time for all of the important things. 

On the other hand, I would really love, for once, not to end up cowering in fear at the mere hint of the words "pool party." I live 5 minutes from the ocean, and within walking distance to the river.  I should spend the summer months in bathing suits, not avoiding them.  And frankly, when I emerge victoriously in my sassy Michael Knobs party outfit, I should elicit a response other than "you look like a mom."

So what's to be done? What if this time I say I'm going to add "me" to a list of my priorities, and mean it? What does that look like?  Well, it is a work in progress, but I've got high hopes.

In the meantime, if I happen to ask you how I look, you could always forget where they sell flip flops.