Gonna Change My Way Of Thinking

This week I turn 28. Interestingly, it’s not my age, but motherhood, that has given me a clearer sense of self. Or, at least, the urgency to find it. I am not just a woman in this world, I am now a hundred percent wife and hundred percent mother, two things that would best define me. Everything else about me takes up but a minor role in my life.

My emotional and mental hurdle after childbirth took about two and a half weeks to get over. But of all the hurdles that must be overcome during this time, the shallow and superficial physical hurdle is the most obvious and, apparently, the most difficult (for me, at least) to get over.

I still look five months pregnant, and I dread the day someone might ask me when I’m due. Thankfully, of the 47 pounds I gained during pregnancy—most of which came in the last trimester—I only have 18 pounds left to lose. The initial 25 pounds were lost within 2 weeks of childbirth, a welcome surprise since my physician said the average weightloss was at 17 pounds in the first month.

One of the last questions I asked my OB before leaving the hospital was if the dark line on my stomach would disappear, to which she answered to the affirmative. But now, 6 weeks later, I still have it. I also still have dark armpits, a big belly, the extra pounds, and excess skin. Add to that, a major pimple breakout that came after childbirth that I can’t seem to do anything about.

Scrap the dermatologist, what can she prescribe me anyway since I’m breastfeeding? Today, I woke up and decided to go to the parlor. Pedi, eyebrow wax and haircut were on my treatment list, with emphasis on “treat”. I saw Micoh, my stylist, as I entered Piandre in front of ABS-CBN. He’s been doing my hair for about 2 years now, and this time I told him I wanted lots of layers. Make me look good, I said. Of course! He answered, Enough of that “bahala na look”, let’s get YOU back. I love him. And after my haircut (with reference to Kim Kardashian’s), I feel like I’m almost back.

Jasmin did my brows, with so much intensity, I wondered when I would be able to get up from the chair and if I’d reach home in time for my daughter’s next feeding. It usually took her 15 minutes to do my brows, but, I guess, after weeks of neglect, she needed more than 15 minutes. She needed a miracle, and by golly did she work wonders.

If I couldn’t reach my toes during most of my pregnancy, I went to Piandre. After Ada came along, I had no time to run to the trusty parlor, and lived with my un-pedicured nails for a month and a half. I had enough of it and chose a pale pink for my new feet.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not this superficial. On the contrary, I’m very plain, too plain sometimes, my husband has to force me to shop. It’s just that sometimes I need to call on the professionals to undo the damage. But now that I’m a mother with hardly any time for myself, it’s nice to get away for an hour and a half of pampering. My baby isn’t the only one who deserves it.

It’s funny how this new phase I’ve entered made me see how much I need to improve myself, whether mentally, emotionally, or physically. I’ve gotten used to thinking that anything will do. An old shirt will do. These tired jeans will do. I don’t have to accessorize. But now, since I’m practically a brand new person with a brand new lifestyle, I’ve gotten the urge to also look the part.

posted by George Rocha-Chu @ 4:38 PM