So, these funny little things happened after I had a baby.

The most ridiculous, pointless, and absurdly annoying things. Things that I never signed up for. Things that make me roll me eyes on a daily basis. Sigh. Bloody Bloody. Sigh.

You know, stupid things like hair horns.

I mean… bloody hair bloody horns. I am not sure what the point of me walking around spending most of my day looking like a god damn goat is, and I don’t know why nature decided to do that to not only me, but the majority of  mothers around the globe. But, hey that’s motherhood for you.

As a new mummy you no longer get to look like a well-rested and well-kept lady. Nope. Nope-ity Nope. That went out the window the minute your chickadee exited your body. No sir-ee. Instead, it’s a fast-paced goats life for me full of crazy hair horns. Pfft.

So lately, in order for me to feel less like a goat, and more like a lady-type-human, I have been resorting to waking up each morning and hair spraying my hair flat on my skull until my head tingles and it looks like I’m wearing a helmet. And then I hair spray a little more just for that extra power. However somehow, by the time I stroll with my new self-confidence down to the bottom of the stairs…boom!

The hair horns have returned. What evil jerks. They are the bane of my existence.

And then there are other things. You know, like…how your boobs transform into…something else.

Something terrifying.

I remember a dear friend once told me many years ago that after breastfeeding her children, her boobs were transformed from perky twenty-something year old lady boobs, to things that strongly resembled long socks with tennis balls at the end of them.

And I remember thinking things like ‘oh the poor love‘, and other rubbish like ‘well, surely that won’t happen to my boobs‘…

I laughingly thought that MY boobs would get through it all with dignity and perky grace. What a laugh. What an idiot.

Now I say hello to the “socks” which are my boobs every morning, as I stuff them into the plain and boring bra which is the only thing that can truly contain these puppies these days.

Gosh I miss my own twenty-something boobs.

And then there are other silly things… like my fruitin-tootin feet. Yes, my poor and forever tortured feet.

These poor little tootsies ache all of the damn time, because I am forever stepping on little bits of Lego, little toy people, puzzle pieces, and books that have been thrown around haphazardly on the floor. Freaking ouch!

Sometimes I find it completely amazing just how my feet manage to miss the clean bits of carpet when I walk through the lounge room or kitchen. Though when I think about it, maybe it’s a sign that I should really clean the joint up. Errrrrm, no.

Then there is that thing about my mummy tummy.

Whilst it is slowly (oh so painfully slowly) getting back into shape, I am terrified to touch it.

I feel like, if I poke a finger into the mass that is my mummy tummy, that I will lose said finger and it will never be seen again. Yes, its a weird kind of squishy. Its soft in a completely different way to what it used to be. I can’t really explain how…but its a terrifying abyss of skin and weirdness. Hmmmm. I should probably work on that again…

And lastly, there is that thing where my skin has absolutely pooped itself.

I mean, I always had crappy eczema and dry skin, but since giving birth to my wee man, my skin has essentially become sand-paper. Yes, these days I am so dry and flakey that parts of my body could really be mistaken for a giant sun-bleached sultana. My expenditure on moisturiser has gone through the roof and I am too afraid to touch delicate materials in case my sharp finger skin ruins the smooth finish. Which it inevitably does.

But of course at the end of the day, it’s all worth it because of what I got out of it.. my little sweet man.

And even though I know it’s just going to get worse after my one day number 2 baby and my hopeful one day number 3 baby, I welcome it.

Bring on the flakey skin. Bring on a new set of hair horns (damn it). Bring on the aching feet. And hey, after three kids if I even remotely care anymore, then I can probably work on fixing those boobs if I have a spare gazillion dollars just floating around.

Because family is worth it. And family is everything…


What happened to you post birth that causes you constant eye-rolling? Leave me a message below, as I would love to hear from you!! x

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