In a very odd compliment, a friend of mine confessed that her husband thought I was the cat’s meow last night.  I was telling Bryan about this, and he was hurt that his high esteem for me wasn’t enough.

I know it’s odd, but I feel like Bryan is obligated to find me attractive, since I bore his child.  And we’re married.  It’s kinda like he HAS to put up with my obsessive cleaning and he HAS to deal with the fact that I will continually sweep up little piles of dust/hair/children and leave them scattered around.  Usually in corners.  HE HATES THIS.  But he has to put up with it.

“I think you’re amazing,” he said.

“I don’t FEEL amazing,” I said, turning my head away so he couldn’t see my eyes well up with tears.  “I gained 60 lbs with Tony.  Sixty!  And my poor stomach..”

At that point, I had to stop talking because his hand covered my mouth.  Then his lips.  He kissed me softly.  “Amazing,” he said.

It’s all about the little victories.  This weekend, I tried on my wedding ring, and for the first time since October, it fit on my finger.  I’m now wearing my regular cotton underwear instead of my well-worn maternity panties.  And I can climb all the stairs in my building in a hurry without being out of breath.

I’m not where I was a year ago, true.  But I’m making progress, and I have to remind myself of that.  I haven’t visited a vending machine since I left for maternity leave, despite my overwhelming desire to drown my recent stress in chocolate and salt.  I purposefully park as far away from my building as possible, so I’m forced to walk a good 1/2 mile into my office.  When I have time and energy, I run in my neighborhood.

Really, this post is for me to look back on when things get rough.

Because the little victories, they are amazing.