‘She’s like a voluptuous pear and I’m the droopy stalk of asparagus’

Stephanie Whittington - 17 Mar 16

I lack confidence. In how I parent Winnie, in how I come across to others, and even in appearance (though you probably wouldn’t guess that from the fact that I make zero effort on a daily basis to improve my dishevelled looks).

Growing up I used to be very body conscious. Not in an ‘I go to the gym, eat 68 of my 5 a day in a green breakfast smoothie and squat at the stove as I cook up a Quorn bolognese’ kind of way, no, more in that I was conscious of the restriction of blood supply to my legs from my impossibly small jeans. If it zips it fits eh, girls?

I was once described as ‘voluptuous’ and I begged and pleaded with the universe to be anything but. I was desperate to be like the girls in films, television and in print as in my eyes the less you weighed the happier you were.

Oh Steph, you poor deluded soul.

My body struggles appeared to vanish the moment I fell pregnant with Winnie and I felt weightless from the euphoria of walking on air. My confidence blossomed and I welcomed the expected weight gain with open arms. Much to my surprise however I continued to measure ‘neatly’ and was sent for numerous scans to check her weight throughout the 40 weeks.

Thankfully all was well and my tiny bump was simply the product of my height (5ft 10″) and Winnie’s impressive contortion skills.

Fast forward to the present day and Winnie is 10 months old, happy and continuing to thrive.

I, on the other hand, am much the opposite. 

Breastfeeding is known to burn an additional 500 calories per day meaning my daily intake was to be around 2,500 in order to maintain my weight. I was clearly not consuming near enough to this figure, and in December weighed in almost two stone lighter than pre-pregnancy, leaving me classed (via NHS guidelines) as underweight. I felt low, disheartened and like a failure. I lost all colour (aside from the blue eye bags, thanks Wins) and though I tried with all of my might to educate myself on higher calorie meals and the good and bad fats, nothing appeared to help.

Having a baby that doesn’t sleep at night and will only nap within the snuggly confines of a pram meant that I was spending a lot of time on walks just to get her to rest. Occasionally I’d load up on chocolate and fizzy drinks just to keep me going (whose idea was it to live at the top of a hill?) but mostly I would just stroll aimlessly growing more and more tired.

There came a point around February where I decided enough was enough. I needed to take responsibility for my health, for myself and for my family. My clothes were baggy and I began not wanting to leave the house in fear of bumping into someone I knew. I was forever met with a resounding “Gosh, are you okay? Are you unwell?” and the little confidence that I was so desperately nurturing from within faded away almost entirely.

So I made a new plan and started eating 6 small meals per day, channeling my German heritage and having coffee with cake every afternoon, and buying snacks from health food stores to graze on as I paced the streets with my snoozing babe.

I am still not where I would like to be in terms of my weight but with the help and support of those around me (and my new BFF Mr Kipling) I have no doubt that I will one day get there.

The reason for this post is not to invite readers to my pity party, but more to educate others on the realities of postpartum body image. The term commonly relates to feeling bigger and struggling to shift the ‘baby weight’, and people don’t often ask in the supermarket if you are unwell or ‘coping’ simply because you’re still looking bigger almost a year on, so why do they feel it acceptable to comment on any weight lost?

Sadly this all stems from living in a society where those like teenage me (insert eye roll here) idolised thinner women, thinking that the number on the scales is somehow indicative of a woman’s self-worth and level of attractiveness. It is only now having experienced both sides of the BMI spectrum that I can empathise with everyone, and as with all walks of life, urge you to be mindful of those around you. Just because someone looks ‘thin’ does not mean they are enviable, confident or healthy. The grass is not always greener on the other side (and if it is, it’s usually fake).

Stay strong mamas and may the pounds forever be in your favour.

Stephanie Whittington

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