During my pregnancy with K, I went through a period of feeling huge and fat and unattractive until I finally realized that I was being ridiculous. It wasn't like I was a bikini model. The only person who ever saw me less than fully clothed was my very accepting husband, and nobody but me noticed or cared if I gained or lost a couple of pounds. I had always thought of myself as being fairly sane about my body image, and hardly the type to eat salad for every meal and spend hours at the gym perfecting my abs. But once I stopped worrying about how my body looked, I couldn't believe how much mental energy I had been wasting. It was refreshing to look in the mirror without being so critical. I vowed to be more self-accepting after my pregnancy.
It didn't last long, of course. I gave myself a break during the postpartum period, but after reaching my pre-baby weight, I was right back to pinching my thighs and frowning when I looked in the mirror.
Now that I'm pregnant again, my only reaction to my reflection is to marvel at the changes in my body. And again, I realize how stupid and unproductive it is to obsess over something that nobody else notices. Maybe the lesson will stick this time. (Maybe. Unlikely.)