March 9, 2010 at 13:34 · Filed under Reviews
When I had the boy our Brasilian friends told me I should wear something to hold my belly in. It would help it shrink they said. I laughed at the idea that compression would work and put it down to being one of those strange Brasilian notions that would never catch on back home.
This time around the idea of post-natal abdomen compression never even entered my mind. Until, that is, I was asked to review the Belly Bandit.
The Belly Bandit is an abdominal compression binder designed to help you get your body back to its former fabulousness post childbirth. Not only does the Belly Bandit help reduce uncomfortable uterine swelling, it aids in decreasing bloating caused by water retention, and gives additional support for Mommy’s weary legs & back. For breastfeeding moms, there’s a bonus… the Belly Bandit will help you with your posture during feedings, and may help to reduce the all too common back & shoulder pain associated with breastfeeding. Ultimately, the Belly Bandit will aid in getting you back to your pre pregnancy hotness faster than ever!
Well that’s what they claim.
My first problem was ordering the right size. Belly Bandit suggest that you go up one to two sizes from your pre-pregnancy belly size. If only I’d thought to measure that when we were trying to conceive! They helpfully note that in the eighth month of pregnancy many women will be the same size as they will be post delivery. Right. But I was four days away from my due date when I was ordering so no luck there. Ah, but just prior to delivery you can subtract three to five inches from your belly measurement. I measured out at the bottom end of the large size so opted to go for the medium and hope for the best. My belly seemed to be all bump and no fat, and I’d lost a lot of weight having been ill when pregnant so it seemed the logical move to me.
I was sent the Originally Belly Bandit in black. What I didn’t like was the fact that it was plastered in the Belly Bandit logo. Although the logo was black too, it was a shiny non-iron print so it stood out a fair bit. It also seemed to be quite bulky around the edges and I wondered if it would show up quite a bit underneath my clothes.
I found the Belly Bandit quite uncomfortable to wear at first, but managed to avoid the problem by loosening it up a bit. Even after loosening it, I could still tell that the compression was working as when I took it off I could feel my belly fall out! From that point on, it was quite comfortable. For a time. I wore the Belly Bandit for five weeks but have had to give up. The Belly Bandit forms to the bend of your body which does make sense, however I found the area around the velcro fastening began to crease and dig in. Because the velcro is quite firm it tended to rub and wearing the Belly Bandit was unpleasant at best. Washing the Belly Bandit did improve the issue, but only for a few hours. I also found that although the Belly Bandit is surrounded by a soft edging, the velcro pushed through the edging making it scratch against my skin. Now I wasn’t exactly a size 8 before I got pregnant and it’s fair to say that I didn’t lose my spare tyres (yes, more than one) during pregnancy. I found that I had to be really careful positioning the Belly Bandit otherwise my tyres would take over and force it to roll down. However, the Belly Bandit wasn’t really tall enough to cover from the top of the problem area to the bottom. I found it best to wear the Belly Bandit quite high (and I’m pretty short in the body anyway) but because of this there was always a gap between the top of my trousers and the bottom of the Belly Bandit. Not a good look. For trousers it did manage to sit under, I found that it slid off really easily. It’s not easy to get into either. In fact, I gave up at first and had to get the husband to put me in it as I couldn’t manage it standing up or lying down. In the end I fastened it before putting it on and then slid it up over my hips. This worked for me because I’ve got a non-existent bum but if your bum’s bigger than your hips then it’s going to be a problem.
The Belly Bandit also has to be hand washed. Yes, hand washed. In cold water. Not exactly what a new mother wants to be doing in the spare hour she has between feeds, not even considering your time’s also consumed with nappy changes, rocking the baby to sleep and anything else you’re running around to get done. Luckily, thanks to the modern wonders of washing machines, I chucked mine in on a cold delicates cycle and hoped for the best. It certainly didn’t seem any the worse for wear because of it. Drying also takes around 12 hours and the product can’t be tumble dried or left on a radiator to dry. The first time I washed the Belly Bandit I made the mistake of leaving it to dry overnight in the conservatory where it’s quite cold. I woke in the morning to find a soggy puddle on the floor (we have nowhere big enough to lie it flat so I hung it from a clip hanger instead) and a Belly Bandit that was still wet. The next time around I dried it in the house (with the heating on) and 12 hours was a fairly accurate timing. Because the Belly Bandit takes so long to wash and dry, and because you are supposed to be wearing it continuously, it is suggested that you buy two.
The Belly Bandit did seem to work. Yes, that’s right, it worked. I noticed a difference in the size of my belly and it wasn’t an upwards one! That said, whether I would have achieved the same difference without the Belly Bandit, I don’t know. The next problem is the sizing again. If your belly’s shrinking rapidly, you’ll need to downgrade to a smaller size because the velcro doesn’t extend through the whole (or even much) of the band. But, at around £50 a pop (for the original – the bamboo and couture versions are even more expensive) it’s not a cheap exercise, especially as there’s no discount for a second purchase. When you consider that it’s suggested that you buy two Belly Bandits (one to wear and one to wash) and a further two when you need the next size down, you’re looking at an investment of a £200 minimum. As a new mum, I can think of a lot of other things I’d rather spend that £200 on.
Would I have spent the money had I not been sent a Belly Bandit to review? No. Something that pulls in your belly is all well and good, but pregnancy weight goes on everywhere and this product only deals with a small fraction of the problem. The price doesn’t make it attractive and it just doesn’t win on the comfort factor.
The Belly Bandit is available from Amazon priced from £49.95.
March 7, 2010 at 14:12 · Filed under Daily Life, FAIL
Living with a Brasilian you learn to have a very fluid sense of timekeeping. To say they’re relaxed on the matter might be a slight understatement. Theyve got no sense of urgency whatsoever. I’ve even found that since being with the husband my own sense of time has become decidedly worse.
Last year, when I turned up for my first shrink appointment, I was kept waiting for 35 minutes. for the first appointment of the day. If only I’d known that would set the precedent for all future appointments.
The next appointments were similarly off time. The last time I appeared at the hospital for an appointment the receptionist exclaimed “I didn’t think the doctor had a clinic today!” I left her to sort things out and when the doctor arrived he mumbled some excuse about his previous appointment being late.
At that point,with my next appointment due after the baby was born, I was scheduled for home visits. At least I could wait in the comfort of my own home. For 40 minutes, it appeared, as once again the doctor was very late for the appointment.
The dentist is another. The boy and I went for a check-up and waited 25 minutes to be called in. All I can say is thank god for the iMonster or I’d never have kept him amused. I had to go back a few days later and the wait was even longer.
I went back again a week later for what was supposed to be the final stage of my treatment. I waited 50 minutes. only to be told they’d not been able to get the crown back from the lab. I’d have to get more molds made up. would they do it there and then? No. I’d have to come back. So go back I did, and I wasted more of my life in that waiting room plagued with a lack of phone signal and 3G. Twice. Until I was finally done.
The letter for my latest shrink appointment came through with only four days to spare. Better, I guess, than the time it arrived three hours after the appointment. Judging by the date each letter was marked with, they couldn’t even blame Royal Mail.
Tuesday morning we rushed like headless chickens to get us all ready and where we needed to be before the 9:15 appointment. 9:15 came and went. 15 minutes passed. 30. I started wondering if we should take bets on when the doctor would arrive. An hour and a half later I’d completely given up. I called at lunchtime only to be told the doctor’s secretary wasn’t in so nobody knew what had happened.
The doctor called the next day. Apparently because his secretary wasn’t in that day, he’d been unable to get my address from the computer in time for the appointment. That didn’t explain to me why he couldn’t have asked one of the other secretaries (after all, I’d spoken to one on the phone that day) to get my number so he could call and apologise. Still, he promised to come at 16:30 the next day.
Thursday. 16:30 passed. 17:00 came around. Still no doctor. I the end the phone rang. He was running late and would be another half an hour. Good job I wasn’t going anywhere.
It amazes me, with the rules these people have where they won’t see you if you’re more than so many minutes late, that they can’t be more on tine themselves. Well, I’ll never complain about a Brasilian’s timekeeping again.
March 5, 2010 at 14:37 · Filed under Daily Life
Karen, the Crunchie Mummy at If I Could Escape… tagged me for the handbag meme. That presented me with a problem because I ditched my handbag a few weeks back when I got totally sick of carrying it and the changing bag everywhere with me. So instead I decided to treat you to a peek inside Mr A’s bag.
The very stylish Boots Parenting Club freebie. Before this one came out, I’d never seen so many women with the same bag. I swear there were about five off us with it at the clinic this morning.
The front pockets are for my bits. I seem to take a book everywhere with me, then there’s the usual keys and phone, Oyster card, hairbrush, nail files (two, I don’t know why), freebie Barclays pen, 4head (which seems to work better on headaches than paracetamol if you ask me), mini nail clippers, hand sanitiser, Burt’s Bees lip balm and lansinoh (which works better than any lip balm I’ve tried).
Wallet, a pack of tissues, spare boob pads, nivea moisturiser, elastic bands (not quite sure why but I’m sure I put them in there for a reason), sudocreme and a dummy and it’s case.
A blanket (we’ve never needed to use this spare yet), hat, booties (which I can almost guarantee are now too small – must find some socks that fit instead), muslin and a pashmina (or fake from down the market – perfect for covering up when breastfeeding and not having to worry about getting sick over).
Spare clothes carefully kept in a plastic bag. It took one rain shower to realise that our changing bag was not waterproof at the top. I doubt the bottom is either but when sitting on the buggy the rain doesn’t seem to hit that point.
Nappies, wipes (two packs, although in fairness they do only have 12 in each), nappy sacks, changing mat and sanitary pads (although I sincerely hope I won’t be needing them any time soon).
And that’s what I’ve got in my bag. Amazingly enough, the bag I’ve packed for the two of us is pretty much the same size as the one I used to carry around for just me. Clearly there’s something wrong with that picture.
Karen also gave me the sunshine award. Apparently I need to:
Put the Logo on your sidebar, or within a post.
Pass the award onto 12 Bloggers.
Link the nominees within your post.
Let the nominees know they have received this award by commenting on their blog.
Share the love and link to the person from whom you received this award.
So I nominate:
Pippa
Amy
Claire
Karin
Carolyn
Emma
Yuri
Laura
Tanya
Heather
Emma
Kathryn
And if you haven’t shown us your bag yet, consider yourself tagged.
March 5, 2010 at 07:38 · Filed under Guests
I am scared of going to sleep. Do everything I can to put it off. I am tired, so tired, three months of newborn baby tired. Eyes scratchy, skull muscles tight, shoulders hunched, feet cold, mind racing.
I switch off the light, lie on my left hand side, pillow between my legs. The herbal sleeping pills will start to work soon. They will. I must not worry about sleep. It’s a vicious circle. If I worry I won’t sleep. I won’t worry. I won’t worry.
Garden. I’ll plan my garden. Go through the gate, raised bed either side. White flowers spilling over the edges, mixed with vegetables. Fruit trees, apple, plum, cherry. Somewhere to sit…
Was that her? Is she waking up? Adrenaline pricks my skin. No, she’s still asleep. I am wide awake. The delicious feeling of sliding away gone. Gone. What if I don’t get it back? What if I can’t fall asleep. What if that was my only chance to fall asleep? Don’t worry. Worrying will make it worse.
The garden, sitting on a bench in the shade. Deep breath in and slow breath out. I can do this. This is better. At least I’m lying down, at least I’m resting. That’s important too…
What? What’s that noise? Oh, it’s her. She’s crying. Must be time to feed her. What time IS it? I feel like I’ve slept about ten minutes. Oh, I’ve slept for a couple of hours. That’s good. A least I was able to fall asleep. It proves I can. If I can do it once, I’ll be able to do it again.
She’s lovely. I do love her. Her tiny pearly fingernails, silky black hair, perfect mouth. I just wish I wasn’t so exhausted. I’m doing the right thing by breastfeeding, I know that. And I don’t want to stop. I just wish someone else could do it. Just for one night. If I could just sleep for one night, I’d feel normal again. Not so scared, anxious, stupid.
She’s finished. I’ll put her back in her cot. Will she settle? Will she start crying again? No? I’ll just lie down, wait a few minutes. She’s gone quiet. Perhaps I’ll check. She looks like she’ll settle. Good.
What time is it? Three o’clock. I must stop looking at the clock. I’ll just start worrying again. I mustn’t worry. It’s pointless to worry. I feel asleep earlier, so I can do it now.
The garden. I’ll grow tomatoes, strawberries, runner beans. Warm sunshine, cool green grass.
It’s not working. I’m not drifting off. How long have I been lying here? I mustn’t look at the clock. Mustn’t look at the clock. It’ll only make me anxious. Lying down is good, I’m still getting rest. But I won’t be able to cope tomorrow on two hours sleep. I need to sleep. I NEED to sleep.
The light is changing. It’s no longer pitch black. I NEED TO SLEEP. OK, deep breath in, long breath out. Don’t worry. Worrying won’t help.
I ache. I’m cold. I can’t get comfortable. Never mind, just lie still. Don’t worry.
Why’s she so noisy? Can’t she just sleep quietly? It’s all very well saying sleep when the baby sleeps, sleep when you can. I CAN’T.
OK, calm down. You fell asleep before, you can do it again. Breathe. Close your eyes. Breathe. Lie still…
NO. NO NO NO. I’m not ready. I was asleep. I WAS ALSEEP. It can’t be morning already. It is.
Fellow SW London girl Victoria Wallop blogs at It’s A Small World After All where she talks about travel, her three kids and their forthcoming round the world trip.
Next entries »
When I had the boy our Brasilian friends told me I should wear something to hold my belly in. It would help it shrink they said. I laughed at the idea that compression would work and put it down to being one of those strange Brasilian notions that would never catch on back home.
