Retail therapy

I didn't want to do it; I've been putting it off. But I still don't fit into my pre-pregnancy clothes and as part of my effort to face the post-partum depression head-on I simply cannot go schlumping about in maternity clothes any longer. I am not naive enough to think that a new outfit and jeans that fit properly are the solution to my problems - post-partum depression is real and serious and cannot be solved with retail therapy and a hot bath - but it is a tiny piece of the puzzle. Catching a glimpse of my reflection and thinking "I can't believe I'm walking around looking like this." Dissatisfaction with the way I look. Mild embarrassment over wearing the same five (maternity) shirts over and over. It's certainly not the root cause of the problem, but it doesn't help.

So yesterday R took the boys on a stroller nap and I went shopping. I dread shopping. My size has crept up over the years and I have a hard time accepting that I am no longer twenty-five with a body that made guys walk across the bar and say "come dance with me." Or hang around taking forever to dance with me even though I thought I was sending out all sorts of hey-come-dance-with-me smiles (yeah, I'm talking about you , R!). And clothes in Switzerland are just expensive, and I'm hoping that I will, eventually, lose at least some of the baby weight; I hate to spend that kind of money on something I plant to shrink myself out of. But it had to be done. I'm not going to let the Paxil do all the heavy lifting; that's why I'm back to seeing Dr. FeelGood regularly, it's why R has found a few hours in his schedule to take Boychen during the week (on days Small Boy is at The Farm or with the Tagesmutter) so that I am completely child-free for an hour and a half, and it's why I'm forcing myself into social situations. And it's why I went shopping. The result? Four tops, a necklace, and one pair of jeans that actually fits.

It's a little thing, but it is nice to feel like I look...good.