I don't look good.

In fact, if I was to be very honest, I'd probably say that I look kind of bad. Maybe even the worst that I've ever looked. Although I lost the pregnancy weight, I'm carrying the Nestle Tollhouse Cookie weight. And I often need to remind myself to stand up straight. Hauling around the kid can do a number on your back, and I catch myself slouched into a psuedo-hunchback position.

My belly was never really flat, but after years of (expensive) pilates, it was ok. I was at peace with it. And a C-section just effed it all up.

But, I feel great. Maybe even the absolute best that I've ever felt. I just feel very optimistic. I feel a bit more energetic. Just very, very good.

And I guess I think it doesn't really matter if I can't remember the last time I washed my hair. The kid always looks pretty good, as in clean, happy, well-fed, in proper fitting and comfortable clothes.

I don't admire that tendency to put everyone else first. Mothering as martyrdom is boring. I signed on for this program with almost complete knowledge, so I'm not trying to court sympathy at all. It's just a the odd co-existence of extremes, to look so yucky but feel so good. And as she develops a little independence, I'm sure I'll find more quality time with my mascara.

Since she's napping, though, I think I'll start with a shower.