My Personal Pawn

When I was in college, I spent a quarter interning in Washington, DC. As part of our internship, all of us students were required to complete a research project. I remember one guy in my class did his project on how children are used as pawns by policymakers. According to his theory, you want to get your legislation passed, add something in it about helping kids. You want to get a bill defeated, prove it is harmful to kids. It was a pretty fascinating theory.

I was thinking about it the other day and realized that babies are also pawns for women in their post-pregnancy bodies. When you first have a baby, you're with him/her pretty much all the time. And frankly your friends and family want to see the baby when they visit, not you. So no one is paying attention to the fact that a month after your child is born you still look like you're in your second trimester. Even strangers on the street, including men who tend to naturally give a woman's body a once-over, notice the baby before they notice your paunch. Now this is great.

So the problem arises when you go back to work. You can't bring your pawn, a.k.a. baby, to the workplace. And though you can distract people with pictures, it is your coworkers who are the main people who are scrutinizing your post-pregnancy body. This is partly because the last time they saw you, you were probably 8 or 9 months pregnant and exceptionally huge. So there's a bit of fascination with the miracle of life that causes them to stare. But for the most part, the moment you step foot off the elevator into the lobby, your un-fitness (unless you are Heidi Klum) is on display. And as you struggle your first few months (I was going to write weeks, but I'm keeping it real here) awkwardly squeezing into work clothes your wore before you were pregnant, hiding behind your desk and hoping no one will notice, your coworkers have already seen you and have already made a judgement.

The other day I was talking to a coworker that had a baby 2 months before me. We both lamented how unattractive we felt now that we were back at work. I couldn't explain it - it was a combination of feeling tired, forgetful, distracted and well, fat. My coworker said, "You just don't feel cute." I totally agreed.

When I'm with my baby, I don't necessarily feel un-cute. I feel normal. And I realize, as I think back to DC over 10 years ago, that it's because I've got my pawn on my arm.