Every time I go to get dressed in something other than sweatpants I get a little teary eyed. Yes, I am wearing regular clothes again, but they are a size 14. I was a six before I got pregnant, and I'm only 20 pounds heavier. Can 20 pounds really equal three sizes? (for those men out there, women's sizes are only even numbers. So it's three sizes, not six. Don't ask my why.)

And then I started thinking about this whole body image thing we women have going on. Why am I so obsessed with being a 14? I should be thankful that I'm healthy and so is my baby. Plus, it's not my fault, it's the fault of my pregnancy (ok, and the fact that I ate a brownie a day during that pregnancy, but I digress.)

I would like to say I got over it and became rational. But I would be lying.

Today Julie and Mac are coming over and we're going to lunch. Since I always dress Jack as if he's about to go to bed, I decided to put him in something that is far less practical but much more like an outfit. Here he is:



And just to give you a comparison of how much he's grown, here's a picture of his birthday and then one I took yesterday:





We weighed him last night and he's over ten pounds! I'm curious to see what the doctor has to say about how much he's grown, but we don't go for two more weeks.