Six weeks ago today, I had a baby.
(Just in case you hadn't noticed.)
Today was also my six-week postpartum visit with my doctor, where I was given the all-clear for:
And at the risk of inciting the ire and hatred of...well, everybody, I learned I'm officially back to my pre-pregnancy weight. 30 pounds on, 30 pounds off.
I don't have a clue how I did it, so don't ask. Besides, oh, giving birth to a 10-pound baby and then lugging around a 10-pound baby and feeding a 10-pound baby and going six weeks without actually being able to sit down to a meal without a certain 10-pound baby suddenly deciding that gee, HE'D LIKE TO EAT NOW TOO WAH WAH WAH. That may have had something to do with it.
To offset this obnoxious news, I came very close to photographing my abdomen to show you all that it doesn't matter WHAT the scale says, this poochy, squashy stretchmark shit ain't right. Pre-pregnancy weight does not equal pre-pregnancy shape, etc.
I have since changed my mind about that. Instead: I LOST 30 POUNDS IN SIX WEEKS. BOO FUCKING YAH.
Actually, I'm more proud of the fact that my appointment was at 9:30 IN THE MORNING and I got there less than five minutes late, with Noah in tow. And I arrived showered and with a fully stocked diaper bag AND I remembered to put socks on the baby.
Although I did walk out my front door and down one whole flight of stairs before I realized that I was not wearing any shoes.
Oh my God! My mom is not very bright!
To celebrate the accomplishment of getting myself out the damn door, I took Noah and myself shopping, where I did not buy him a single thing. Instead? Clothes for meeeee. Shoes for meeeee. Stupid infomercial-quality miracle manicure set from one of those pushy people at those carts by the elevators for meeeee, because fat hot ham, my hands are a mess, particularly my right index finger which Noah has decided is MUCH better than his pacifier and is now permanently pruny and shriveled.
Then we went to drop off a deposit check at a daycare center, where I cried. Like, was-awkwardly-handed-a-box-of-tissues cried.
Then I went to McDonald's for a Quarter Pounder with cheese and fries.
It was delicious, almost as tasty as Noah's chunky little cheeks.