This New Years was likely the most expensive I will ever experience. That Husband and I ate at the top of Reunion Tower at a restaurant called Five Sixty, which features a dining room that rotates 360 degrees for unbeatable views of downtown Dallas the the surrounding area. We splurged in part because I missed the chance to go to his company holiday party because he was sent out of town, but really I knew there was different reason why I wanted to go somewhere fancy for New Years.

I just want to feel pretty again. I want to look in the mirror and be happy with what I see.

I’m not sure that I say nice things in my head about myself when I look at this picture, but I needed the experience of taking a long hot shower and shaving my legs, slathering myself with matching lotion and perfume, smoothing on a touch of red lipstick and a bit more mascara than usual, curling my hair, slipping into an LBD (it’s real silk and feels so luxurious), and picking out some sparkly accessories. I still cringe when I see the photos as I’m still not used to the way I look right now, but when I stepped out of the car as we dropped off the car with the valet I felt fancy, and fanciness was what I needed that night.
I wrote last month about my struggle to accept my new figure. Despite all of the extremely kind comments urging me to see the beauty in my current state, I haven’t been able to find peace with who I am right now. I wouldn’t classify my current mental state as clinically depressed in any way, but it’s been far too long since I looked in the mirror and was happy/proud of what I saw.

A few days ago I realized, at least in part, why this has been so rough for me. I was fat before, but I was still who I chose to be, if that makes any sense. I was young and completely in control of my own life. Deciding to get pregnant and have a baby means giving up some of that control. In reality I don’t think I’m mourning the loss of my body, I’m mourning the loss of the girl I’ve come to identify myself as for the last decade. Ten years ago I was just coming into my prime. I french kissed a boy for the first time. I was about to learn how to drive. Over the next few years I would fill out and slim down in the right places and my parents would pull their hair out trying to find a way to help me realize how important it was to keep my virtue intact (I realize the importance now mom and dad, and I’ll be attempting the same thing with our own girls soon enough!). I started college and went from a high school with approximately 8 dateable guys to a pool of thousands of possibilities. My weight gain started, which caused my romantic possibilities to dry up, but my social life was so active I didn’t seem to notice. I lost weight and suddenly I was desirable again (although by that point I had already promised myself to someone so I didn’t spend any time gallivanting).

I’m married, happily, and completely committed to my husband, but now I feel as though I’ve not only lost my sassy single girl status, but also my blissful newlywed-ness as well. Come April we will have another human being to care for which means that in a few short months I become… a mother. I can’t be selfish like I am now. Most of the time I will have little to no control over things (temper tantrums anyone?). Days that already seem impossibly short will suddenly be filled with diapers and hungry mouths and mountains of laundry.

Jenna, the mother. Someone will call me mom, and in the beginning will depend on me for their very existence. In every sense of the word, I’m no longer a girl, I am a woman, and the transition has been tougher than I realized it would be. It’s going to be awhile before I feel comfortable in my own skin again, but since this motherhood thing is a lifetime commitment, I guess I have more than enough time to come to terms with it.

I’m fine with being the soccer mom who has a belly riddled with stretch marks, I just want to find a way to be the mom who doesn’t try to hide behind her kids every time a camera is pointed in her direction.

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