I haven't forgotten about my blog.

I just don't have as much time to type long posts. That, and I'm almost always holding a baby.

I'm currently eating a scrambled egg biscuit and drinking a glass of Coke while pondering just how well I'm going to handle starting Weight Watchers in about a week. I can't think about that. I have to do it. I just have to. I must lose weight - about 120 pounds. I need to lose a whole person.

It's funny. Before I had Dax, I was really confident in my looks - even as an obese woman. When I looked in the mirror, I saw the same girl that danced and sang into her hairbrush when she was 17, only there was one difference. That 17-year-old girl didn't like the way she looked. She thought she was fat and ugly. She hated her body.

100 pounds and one child later, I loved my body. I loved how it looked, and I loved what my body did for me. You would think that having a VBAC - Vaginal Birth After Cesarean - completely unmedicated at that, would've made that positive body image even stronger. You would think that breastfeeding exclusively - knowing that my body, and my body alone, is nourishing my baby completely, without any complication - would also add to that appreciation for my body.

You would think.

I can only guess that a combination of hormones, lack of sleep, and most likely postpartum depression are to blame for my recent body image issues. I haven't felt this horrid about my body since I was that insecure, self-conscious 17-year-old girl. I never thought that "because I want to look better" would be one of my reasons for starting a weight loss program, but now it is. You know what else? I'm not afraid to admit it. I want to look better. More than anything, I want better health and energy, but looking better is a close second, and I'm okay with that.