Maybe. Maybe not so much.
I know full well that I'm supposed to embrace and love and revere this post-baby body of mine. I know it. But it doesn't mean I actually feel those things. In all honesty, I don't like my body at all right now.
In the first shower I took after my C-section, I looked down and didn't recognize a single part of my body. Below the neck, it wasn't me. It didn't look like the pregnant version of me, and it was nowhere near the pre-baby version of me. Later, after a few weeks of night sweats and hot flashes, I lost the bloat weight and was able to put real shoes and jeans back on again. But, still. I still do not look like me. And more importantly, I do not feel like me. I'm used to feeling strong and capable; right now, I'm not in the slightest running shape, and it seems like more and more body parts are in pain with each day. That's a move in the opposite direction, am I right?
I realized this morning that I've been mildly obsessing over a photo of me taken ten years ago, right after a sweaty, dusty, hilly, summer trail run. I'm soaked in sweat (I do not look pretty when I work out), and my hair is a frizzy pony-tailed mess. But all I can think about right now is how badass I was. I'd just finished running a set of trail loops with a killer hill, and I'd passed other runners on the uphills. I was sweaty and feeling strong. So strong.
Now? I am a lumpy mess, experiencing pain that's limiting me even more. I know full well that this will pass, and that I'll start really running again one day, and that my body might eventually look familiar again. But I don't want to discount how I feel right now. I don't want to ignore my current struggle with a brain that doesn't want to live in the body it's got. I don't want to candy coat or smile through my true feelings. I want to throw things and kick things and go out - solo - to run my body ragged.
But for now, I will work on my mental game. And try to come to terms with reintroducing my body to my brain.