My legs are in better shape than they’ve ever been thanks to months and months – nearly a year – of bouncing my daughter to sleep on a birth ball, but note the stretch marks. They made their appearance while I was on bedrest during my pregnancy. Stretch marks and pregnancy pretty much go hand in hand, and I expected to get them on my belly, my hips, perhaps even my breasts… (and I did!) but my calf?! It just wasn’t fair. My breasts and belly and hips stay pretty much covered up, but having my calf stretch marked – and not both calves, oh no, couldn’t be symmetrical about it or anything, just my right calf – was a real bummer. No more shorts or skirts, I would moan.
I want to embrace them. I want to see them as battle scars, or badges of merit, but I’m not having much luck with it yet. I was twenty when I got pregnant and I’m still morning the loss of my young, slender body. My belly is still pretty soggy and stretchmarked, resembling bread dough, but it doesn’t bother me nearly as much as my leg.